


They All Taste the Same

by MistressLynn



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, BAMF Draco Malfoy, BAMF Hermione Granger, Biting, Bloodplay, Character Death, Creature Fic, Dubious Consent, F/M, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Horror, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Love, POV Hermione Granger, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Hogwarts, Romance, Rough Sex, Smut, Two plot lines! It's a choose your own adventure fic!, Vampire Draco Malfoy, Vampire Hermione Granger, Vampire!Hermione, Vampires, Violence, War, War AU, vampire, vampire!Draco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:48:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 20
Words: 87,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27026092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistressLynn/pseuds/MistressLynn
Summary: Draco has always wanted Hermione, but a recent change has him wanting her even more.Post-Hogwarts, wartime, non-DH compliantShe watched as he slowly approached her, sniffing the air as he did so. His head tilted, following wafts of air as they traversed the space between them. Was it her scent that enthralled him so? He turned back to her and she was struck by the intensity in his grey-sliver eyes, hungry and lustful. She clutched her sheet more tightly to her body. A slight movement drew her gaze to his mouth. He was flicking the tip of his fang with his tongue, and watching her.She was in trouble.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Remus Lupin/Nymphadora Tonks
Comments: 172
Kudos: 363
Collections: Best of best





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: In its use of intellectual property and characters belonging to JK Rowling, Warner Bros, Bloomsbury Publishing, et cetera, this work is intended to be transformative commentary on the original. No profit is being made from this work.
> 
> Thank you to my Beta Readers: AuntLynnie, Gryffindor_Slytherin, MargotLeFaye, Misdemeanor1331

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this because I started picturing Alexander Skarsgaard as Draco. And after watching True Blood, I had to get this out of my system. If you like TrueBlood, you'll like this. Hopefully. :)

**Chapter 1**

Draco Malfoy was standing on his balcony, looking out into the night with a deep sense of longing that would not go away. The wind picked up and ruffled his hair. The bare skin of his chest would have prickled if his body would still have been able to physically react to the cold. Staring up at the moon and stars, he took a slow, deep breath.

Lately, the arrangement hadn't been enough for him. He felt like an animal, trapped in a cage. A grim expression graced his features. He _was_ an animal in a cage. He didn't belong here anymore; he never did. The desire to escape and run free was becoming unbearable. Not only that, but Draco had started to wonder if the Dark Lord suspected he was more powerful than he let on. He had been careful but it was only a matter of time before someone figured it out.

There was no longer anybody holding him here, so what made him stay? The supply of magical blood?

He heard his house-elf and a human approach long before the knock sounded on the door. Draco sniffed the air. It was Greg. He looked over his shoulder and sniffed again. Greg and someone else with a scent that he didn't recognize.

Curious, his bare feet padded on the hardwood floor as he approached the double doors leading to the hall corridor.

"Enter," he said, his voice echoing off the walls.

The doors opened and his elf came through and bowed.

"Master, Gregory Goyle is here."

Draco motioned for the elf to let him in. The doors swung open wider and Greg lumbered through carrying a small body wrapped in a white sheet. The sheet was a sharp contrast to the black Death Eater robes that Greg wore. Draco eyed the motionless bundle.

The now unmistakably female smell became stronger as they entered the room, and to his surprise, he found that the scent was familiar. Who had been caught this time?

Draco took a few steps forward and heard Greg's heartbeat quicken at his approach. Like the others, Greg feared him since that fateful mission. Most of the Death Eaters were wary around him now, but he didn't want to alarm anyone within the Dark Lord's ranks, least of all the Dark Lord himself. So he kept a low profile, and didn't do anything that would cause anyone to question their assumptions.

In the meantime, Draco took on the role of the executioner. Killing prisoners suited his new nature just fine. He sneered at the memory of his aunt leaving him for dead, not realizing that he would return, changed forever. At first, his mother and father reviled him; they were sad and angered by his transformation. But ultimately, their love for him won out and they accepted him. The lives of the Malfoys had been hanging by the thread of the Dark Lord's whim for far too long.

"The Dark Lord wants to question this one personally. You need to weaken her first," Greg explained, eyeing him.

"How."

It was a question, but Draco made it sound like a statement. Greg swallowed under Draco's scrutiny and continued, "Beat her, fuck her, torture her, drain her, do whatever it is that… that your kind does. It doesn't matter, she's filth."

His eyes flashed to the bundle. Suddenly, he knew that it was _her_. Greg released his hold so that her body would be dumped to the floor. In the blink of an eye, Draco rushed over and caught her while his old friend from school recoiled from his proximity.

Warmth. He felt her warmth against his torso, chest, and arms. He bent his head down, burying his nose in the sheet and inhaling with a deep shuddering breath. It _was_ her.

Greg's mouth opened in shock after witnessing the lightning-fast reflexes, and then curled in disgust at the display of Draco’s baser, more primal nature. He snarled and Greg took a half step backwards.

"Don't kill her yet," he tried to admonish Draco with a tone of bored superiority, but the slight crack in his voice belied his worry.

He continued to look uneasily from the body to Draco, unsure of what to do. He didn't know whether he should oversee the torture to be sure that the Dark Lord's orders were followed, or to exit Draco's very unnerving presence.

"Leave," Draco growled.

The one word command left no room for argument, and Greg left, utterly repulsed at what his childhood friend had become. Draco paced back and forth in anticipation while staring at the white bundle on the floor, unsure of what to do. He paused, studied the bundle and flexed his forearms.

He _wanted_ her. It had been two years since he last saw her. He was still human then.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

_Draco was running as fast as he could, a Silencing spell cast on his feet. The Dark Lord had been tricked. Much to the Death Eaters’ surprise, the old French castle was a trap and there wouldn't be a prisoner exchange. Somehow, the Order had found out that the captives had already been executed and the exchange was a farce. Someone on their side must have decided to exploit the situation and make a trap of their own. The Dark Lord’s army had never seen it coming. The trap was planned with a cunning and ruthlessness quite uncharacteristic of the Order of the Phoenix, and it was executed brutally. More members of the Order had arrived to collect the surviving Death Eaters that were too injured to return._

_Draco was only alive and in one piece due to his extreme paranoia and cold, hard skill. Both were a result of himself and his family being on the Dark Lord's shit list for years, and wondering when the axe would fall. It was only a matter of time, really. He probably wouldn't live to see his twenty-first birthday, and for what?_

_A fucking war over Pureblood supremacy._

_He had tried to persuade his father that they should abandon everything and flee, but to no avail. His father was a coward, and his mother wouldn't leave his side. They'd likely be found and killed anyway. He didn't know how well they would be able to hide with their Dark Marks._

_He doubled over from the exertion of sprinting up and down corridors and ducking into alcoves. The saliva in his mouth was thick and he bent his head to spit on the ground. Wiping his mouth of spittle, he cursed his rotten luck in a harsh whisper. His Portkey had fallen from his pocket while he had narrowly escaped the first explosion. He was sure it was near the south entrance. At the time, he was too busy dueling to notice, and now he had to make his way back. Maybe it would be better to hide and wait until the Order had finished combing through the castle grounds. Better yet, if he could get outside the range of the anti-Apparition ward, he could be back at the Dark Lord's lair within seconds. The question was… how?_

_He thought he heard something and abruptly stopped breathing. After casting a spell to enhance his hearing, he strained his ears and heard hushed voices approaching from the end of the hallway. Panicked, he looked back and forth, but found no place to hide. The distance to the exit of the corridor was too far off; he'd never make it in time. In a last ditch effort to hide himself, he plastered his body against the stone wall and cast a Disillusionment Charm, hoping that if he stayed still enough, whoever it was wouldn't notice the telltale shimmer of the spell in the dark of night. He did his best to control his breathing, but it was hard._

_A deep male voice from down the corridor was amplified for him to hear._

_"What do you think it is? That dragon on the emblem looks to be made of gold."_

_Was that Longbottom? The sod had his Portkey. Maybe his luck was improving._

_"I'm not sure, Neville. It doesn't appear to be dangerous, but it's been charmed with… something. Here, levitate it into this pouch. Don't touch it."_

_His pulse quickened at the sound of the female voice. A voice now familiar from his reminiscing of their moments together._

_He closed his eyes and exhaled. Of course it would be her._

_Thinking of her was distracting; he was unable to temper the sad longing that accompanied his memories of her, but he couldn't afford to make any mistakes. How could he get his Portkey back? And how could he do it without hurting her? If they passed by him without noticing how he was hidden (not impossible, but highly improbable if they were searching for stray Death Eaters) he could stun both of them from behind._

_Hopefully._

_Seeing as how he didn't have any other bright ideas, he focused on the one he had. He'd have to stun Hermione first. She was the better duelist by far. He saw them approach by criss crossing across the hall and running in bursts. They were both dressed in black, and her hair was tied back in a tight bun. Their movements seemed graceful and effortless. They must have practiced the movements so often for it to resemble a dance. One would be flat against the wall, wand ready, while the other made a diagonal dash towards the opposing wall._

_He watched them progress down the corridor, and mapped out approximately where they would be to see if he should attempt moving. It seemed like they would pass him unnoticed when all of a sudden, Longbottom tripped._

_Draco rolled his eyes impatiently and found that Hermione was hilariously rolling hers as well, as she silently hurried to help him up. However, his amusement was short-lived as he realized that the fall had ruined their pattern and she was now sprinting directly towards him._

_Adrenaline rushed through his body and he held his wand in the attack position. What would she do if she noticed him? She was truly terrifying in battle. He’d witnessed it, and didn’t know how he’d fare to be on the receiving end._

_She pumped her arms as she ran, glancing back over her shoulder to ensure that they weren't going to be attacked from behind. She turned to face his spot on the wall, furrowed her brow and skidded to a halt five feet from him. He raised his wand but other than that, didn’t dare move else she hex him._

_Her hazel eyes were studying the disturbance against the wall with trepidation. It was hard to see his Disillusionment Charm in the dark but she was facing him directly now. Her eyes narrowed and he watched the rise and fall of her breasts as she caught her breath._

_It would be point blank. He should stun her now and deal with Longbottom. He should, but he couldn't. Not her._

_His head bowed in resignation._

Fuck.

_"What's wrong?" Longbottom asked warily._

_Hermione waved for him to be quiet and slowly approached Draco with her wand out. She was just as painfully beautiful as he remembered her, but hardened around the_ _edges—they all were. Somehow, the hardness only amplified her beauty._

_He should take off his mask so that she would recognize him, but was afraid that the shimmery movement would cause her to attack._

_By now she would have realized what she was looking at, and her eyes searched the area where she estimated that his eyes would be. Knowing that she was in the presence of a Disillusionment Charm, she would be wondering why whoever had cast the spell hadn't assaulted her already. Fortunately for Draco, this meant that she wouldn't attack him hastily._

_"What is it?" Longbottom asked again, and made to approach her._

_"Stay back!" she hissed, not taking her wand or her eyes off of Draco. "Keep watch of the corridor exits!"_

_She muttered the counter spell and tensed as he appeared before her, glancing down to the tip of his wand which was almost touching the tip of hers, and then back up to his face._

_Slowly, he lowered his wand._

_“Who are you?” she demanded, not dropping her guard for a second. Cautiously, so as not to incite her into attacking him, he dipped his fingers under the chin of his mask and lifted it off his face, removing his hood with it._

_"Malf-" Longbottom started, but Hermione hushed him, and he stood still._

_“Keep watching the exits,” she whispered harshly, and Longbottom obeyed._

_She must be ranked highly now. Something clicked and he made the connection. Draco raised an eyebrow and stared down at her over the tip of her wand. "It was you who planned this, wasn't it?"_

_He couldn't keep the admiration out of his voice. The corner of her mouth twitched into a half smile, and then disappeared as regret entered her eyes. She couldn't take pride in something that resulted in the death and injury of so many people, enemy or not._

_In a soft whisper that only he could hear, she told him simply, "Come with us."_

_He swallowed. He would follow her anywhere if he could._

_"They'll be killed," he answered, just as quietly._

_She nodded. She knew. She lowered her wand, relaxed her stance, and closed the gap between them._

_Searching his face, she continued, "It's a standing offer. When you're ready."_

_He studied the sadness of her hazel eyes, reflecting the despair in his own. He wanted them to be somewhere else, but it was never their time… not in this life._

_He gave her a sardonic smile. "I doubt I'll live that long."_

_His chest ached. He longed to touch her, and he eyed Longbottom, who was making his way towards them, wand at the ready. The situation was clearly making the shit-for-brains uneasy._

_"Hermione, what's going on?"_

_Ignoring Longbottom, he motioned to the pouch tied to her belt. "You've got my Portkey."_

_Wordlessly, she untied the pouch from her belt and handed it to him. Her fingers lingered, touching his in the faintest of caresses. Longbottom began to sputter a protest, and Hermione's hand dropped. Draco's hand remained, holding the pouch and still tingling from where she had touched him._

_Looking down at the pouch in his palm, he exhaled slowly in relief and curled his fingers around the fabric._

_Longbottom, clearly disturbed by what he was seeing, started sputtering again, "You're…wait! You're going to let him go?"_

_Hermione set her mouth in a determined line, nodded as if she were debating and then agreeing with herself, and then turned around._

_"Obliviate!"_

_She turned back to Draco, and he could see the faintest of tears in her eyes._

_"Hurry," she urged him._

_"Hermione, I…"_

_Adrenaline surged through him. He didn't know when he'd see her again, if ever. Feeling reckless, he circled her upper arm with his fingers, pulled her close to him and cupped her face. Staring into her eyes, he slowly rubbed the softness of her bottom lip with his thumb. Her breath hitched and her gaze flicked from his eyes down to his mouth and back. He could take her now, they could leave, they could run away from all of this. He leaned down to kiss her, and he brushed her lips lightly with his. But before he could deepen the kiss, she gently pushed him away, biting her lip and shaking her head._

_She looked up at him and a lone tear spilled over her lashes and made its way down her cheek._

_"Hurry," she implored again, her voice barely a whisper._

_Never taking his eyes off of hers, he opened the pouch, dumped the Portkey into his hand, and vanished._

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

With a great deal of excitement, Draco uncovered her body with a swish of the sheet. He was quite unprepared for the onslaught of hunger and desire that overtook him. Her scent, ten times stronger now, assaulted his senses and she was _naked_. She was lying on her back with her left leg over her right, covering her private area. For a split second, he was paralyzed. The object of his desire for so many years was laid out before him. Hair, lips, eyelashes, stomach, smooth skin, breasts, legs, throat, and the stream of her sweet, sweet blood.

As the saliva pooled in his mouth, he felt his fangs extend and he became painfully hard. With a grunt, he fell to his hands and knees, crouching over her like the predator he was.

He was aroused and hungry, ready to take and violate her body in every way imaginable. He heard her blood pumping just under her skin. Placing a hand on the back of her knee and encircling her lower thigh with his fingers, he closed in on her throat. As he approached the pumping of her artery under her skin, he felt the tendons and muscles of her leg and gave it a slow squeeze. He cupped the back of her head with his other hand and threaded his fingers through her hair, reveling in its softness.

A low growl left his chest and he slid his hand up her leg to dig his fingers into the suppleness of her rear. He lifted and tilted her head in such a way that her throat was entirely exposed to him, and rubbed his thumb over the skin of her neck. He felt the pulse of her rushing blood and the stream got louder, calling to him, until all that he could hear was the rhythmic pumping of her heart thudding in his ears. He leaned down and licked the length of her throat, savoring the taste, and readied to sink his teeth in.

He'd fuck her into the ground and drain her until there was nothing left. He would ravage her and bathe in her blood. It would be glorious. Hermione would…

Hermione.

He paused and closed his eyes to block the image of her tempting body laid bare before him. Gently, he laid her down so that her warm softness wouldn't arouse his lust. He turned his head towards the patio doors, trying to clear his nose of her scent with the fresh night air coming in from the balcony. He tried to listen to the wind, to the animals outside, to the curtains fluttering, to anything that would distract him from the beating of her heart and the flow of her blood. It was difficult, struggling with and finally controlling his predatory nature. Not without considerable effort, he sat up on his haunches and slowly backed away from her.

He needed to get outside and feed on something else so he could clear his mind enough to think through his options. In a flash, he was gone.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

When Hermione awakened, the first thing she realized was that she was lying on a floor. More specifically, she was lying on a rug. The second thing she realized was that she was naked. Fighting the urge to cover herself, she feigned sleep while furiously trying to remember how she had gotten here in the first place… wherever "here" was. From the way the air flowed around her and the slight coolness she felt towards her feet, she guessed she was in a large room, and there was an open window near where her feet pointed. She wondered if she was on the ground floor. Her hands itched to reach around her to see if her wand was nearby, but she knew that it was hopeless, wishful thinking.

She tried to concentrate on remembering. How much time had passed? What time of day had she last been conscious? It must have been noon and very bright outside because her last memory was of a blinding light. But that couldn't be right, she and Ron were trying to help Harry escape the Forbidden Forest with Ravenclaw’s diadem, the fifth Horcrux. There was hardly any direct sunlight there.

Suddenly, it came back to her. Padma was there, injured. Hermione split up with Ron so that he could watch Harry's back while she got Padma out. She didn't understand why Padma was there in the first place, and that fact alone set off warning bells. The three were to have back-up if needed, but they had not signaled for anyone to come. Furthermore, Padma was not one of those assigned to be back-up for the mission in the first place. She hadn't been quite right since Parvati's death, and had deteriorated over the past two years. As such, she was generally given a wide berth with little responsibility.

Upon being asked, Padma had successfully given her personal password, thus confirming her identity, and had not given the password indicating she was being coerced in any way. Hermione ignored the sense of wrongness she felt about the situation and went right on to assessing her friend's injuries. It had seemed that the most serious of them was on her upper right thigh, causing a lot of blood loss.

_"Sorry," Padma said in a barely audible whisper._

_"What?" Hermione asked, as she concentrated on closing the lacerations. When she looked up, a bright light emitted from the end of Padma's wand._

And now she was here.

Padma must have thought she could buy a safe passage to the other side. That was both disappointing and a terrible loss. She had been with them from the beginning. Intelligent, brave and loyal, Padma was a true soldier and friend. Hermione hoped that her betrayal was temporary insanity brought on by Parvati's death, and not a lack of faith in their cause or change in her true allegiance.

Or maybe she was giving her too much credit and the bint just wanted revenge for Hermione’s role in her twin’s death. With the way Padma had been acting lately, and her erratic behavior, it was impossible to tell...

It had been a frustrating year all-around, and many in the Order despaired of ever winning. They watched their numbers slowly decrease without any apparent progress in what appeared to be an incredibly damaging war of attrition. But a recent lead had led Hermione, Ron and Harry back on the trail. She was certain that they had managed to destroy the fifth Horcrux without her, and they knew where the sixth was.

Nobody but the three of them knew about the Horcruxes, and fortunately, they weren't physically able to talk about it to someone else. The Unbreakable Vow had been her idea, and all three agreed that it would be for the best. The control over her own fate gave Hermione more courage to face whatever torture was planned for her to extract names, locations and strategies. She could commit suicide by attempting to tell her interrogators precisely what it was that her captors would want to know. It put her in control of what otherwise would be a truly horrifying experience that most likely would end in her death anyway.

She wondered if she could chance a peek at her surroundings without alerting anyone to the fact that she was awake. She didn't sense anybody in the room, and the only sound she could hear was the occasional rustle of a curtain. From the sound of it, the window must be fairly large. Or maybe the ceiling of the room was high. She guessed that she was roughly twenty feet away.

Since the right side of her face was pressed against the sheet, she chanced opening her right eye a crack. Her nose and hair would hide any movement that she made involuntarily so she could retain her guise of unconsciousness. Her eye was only opened slightly and so everything in her line of sight was blurry. She could make out that she was in a very opulent sitting room of sorts. There were a few tables and chairs, and a sofa almost directly across from her.

She almost flinched. Almost.

She saw the bottom half of someone, obviously male, sitting on the couch with one leg extended outwards towards her. He appeared to be wearing only black trousers. No shirt, no shoes. He was well built, and tall. From her angle on the floor, she couldn't see his face. She hadn't felt as nervous when she thought that she might be alone in the room, but now there was an unknown man not ten feet away from her, staring at her nakedness. Knowing that she was being watched made her feel her vulnerability that much more acutely.

Goosebumps spread over her body and her nipples hardened. She heard a low growl emanate from the area where the man was sitting on the couch. Was there an animal in here too? She didn't sense one. Then again, she hadn't sensed the presence of the man sitting on the couch, either.

She saw his legs straighten as he stood up and walked towards her. Her heartbeat quickened. He was very tall indeed. She smiled inwardly. He would fall… hard. His bare feet padded on the ground until he was almost within reach. She could bite and rip through his Achilles tendon with her teeth. He would fall and she would go immediately for his wand. If it wasn't in his hand, it would be in his trouser pocket. Roughly 90% of wizards were right handed, so she would go for his right side first. If she couldn't get his wand, she would gauge his eyes out, knee him in the groin and break his collar bone. In that order. If the bastard had answers about her situation, then by Merlin, she would get them.

He was standing next to her now. Was she ready for this? Yes. She held her breath, and counted down. She could feel the adrenaline racing through her body and her heart thumped wildly in her chest. Ready? And three… two… The man's voice cut through her thoughts.

"There's no use in attacking me, your movements are ten times slower than mine."

_What?_

Her eyes snapped open to see a bare-chested Draco Malfoy towering over her. Her heart leapt and a smile of pure happiness lit up her face. He was _alive!_

She heard the low growling again, and with a start, realized that it was coming from _him_. Seemingly entranced, he was staring down at her nakedness, raking his eyes over her in a dangerous, predatory manner. Her smile faltered. Something was wrong.

Furiously, she wrapped herself in the sheet, jumped to her feet and backed away from him while scanning her surroundings for exits and weapons. Draco's eyes followed her movements, but he stood completely still. Slowly, his lips spread in a lecherous smile and to her horror, she saw that he had _fangs._

Her heart plummeted. They were vile. He had so much potential. He didn't belong with them and they knew it. She always felt helpless when she thought of Draco. Much as she yearned for him, much as she wanted to help him, he was stuck, surrounded by evil. How had he done it all these years? Was it his strength of will? Or the love that he felt for those close to him? Through it all he had managed to hold onto his humanity.

And then they took even that from him.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

_Hermione walked hurriedly down the corridor. It was night. She had felt increasingly isolated this year from Harry and Ron, like a third wheel. And she was lonely. She wanted to clear the air between her and Harry at least so that she could better tackle what remained of her friendship with Ron. But she couldn't find him. Out of habit from last year, and the good memories that she had from being a part of the DA, she found herself returning to the Room of Requirement, and encountered Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle walking down the corridor from precisely that direction, arguing furiously in hushed voices. They all stopped as soon as they saw her._

_She considered turning heel and striding off in the other direction, quickly. That might save her a confrontation with all three, but her retreat would only encourage them later. Not to mention that she had just as much of a right to be here as they did. She squared her shoulders, took a deep breath and continued down the hallway. She would just ignore them._

_"Well, well, well," Crabbe taunted her. "Dirty, little Mudblood. All on her own."_

_She tried to continue on her way without looking even remotely in the same direction as the three. She didn't care about Crabbe and Goyle, it was Draco that unnerved her. They had become very close that night in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, and had understood each other as only two suffering people can. She was scared of what she would see in his eyes now. She wasn't afraid that it didn't mean anything to him, she knew it did. But she was afraid that he would regard her_ _in the same way that he always did, as if nothing had changed between them._

_Goyle stepped directly in front of her, blocking her path. He gave her a threatening smile._

_"You should leave, Mudblood," Draco said to her, struggling to keep his voice impassionate._

_Her heart sank. So he was going to pretend that nothing happened. She felt betrayed. And hurt. She closed her eyes, willing the tears away, and reopened them before slowly turning to face him. He was flanked by his two oafish friends, and looked positively sick. Taken out of context, it almost sounded like he was warning her. She felt a tingle of fear race down her spine at the barely contained panic in his expression._

_He_ was _._

_The double meaning was lost on Crabbe and Goyle, who continued to tell her that she didn't belong at Hogwarts._

_Draco's eyes were pleading with her in a way that his mouth couldn't, and now she saw that he was absolutely terrified. Not just for himself, but for her._

_"Get your filthy self out of our way," he repeated, more in control of his voice. “Leave.”_

_Soundlessly, his eyes widened in fear and he mouthed the word "Now."_

_Adrenaline was racing through her body, but raw terror rooted her to the spot._

_Crabbe and Goyle misinterpreted her fearful expression to mean that she was afraid of them and Crabbe closed in on her threateningly._

_"Come on," Draco said with nervous irritation. Without taking his eyes off of her, he tugged on Crabbe’s sleeve, pulling him away from her and motioned for Goyle to follow him. "We've got work to do."_

_"Your days are numbered, Mudblood," Goyle threatened with a snarl, pointing back at her as he walked on with Draco._

_She stared after them as they walked swiftly down the hall._

_Leave where? From this corridor? From Hogwarts? Something was going to happen. Harry had been right all along. Whatever Draco was involved in, it had him petrified. And now, watching the three leave the corridor, so was she._

_Like after a gunshot at the start of a race, she took off in a sprint in the opposite direction, following a roundabout way to the Headmaster's office. After several attempts of hurriedly whispering various kinds of Muggle candy to the gargoyle guarding his office in between gasps for breath, she concluded that he wasn't there. Biting her lip worriedly until it bled, she decided that Professor McGonagall would be the best person to warn. However, she never got the opportunity. Not ten minutes after she had left that corridor leading to the Room of Requirement, Draco returned to let Bellatrix Lestrange, Fenrir Greyback, and several other Death Eaters into Hogwarts._

_She didn't realize it until later, but Draco Malfoy had saved her life._

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

From what she knew, vampires turned from Muggles had little sense of morality, at least, not in the sense that humans did. She didn't know a damned thing about vampires turned from wizards. Until now, she'd never even heard of a vampire turned from a wizard. What she _did_ know was that vampires were dangerous. They were slaves to their hunger and desires until they had aged considerably, human only in appearance.

He was lost completely. No hope. She choked out a sob, and her voice shook with despair.

"What did they _do_ to you?"

His grey eyes glittered down at her through his fringe.

"It could have been worse..." As if to prove his point, his eyes lowered to her throat and rose back to meet her eyes again. He was clenching and unclenching his hands.

She noted that there was a French window to her left, thirty feet away, leading out to balcony. She had been off a bit. From the view of the Mumford tree outside in the moonlight, she estimated that they were three stories high; too high to jump without breaking a leg or worse.

It was commonly thought that vampirism took away the magic in the wizard's body and blood since the change in state was, in actuality, an affliction of both, but there was no recorded evidence. She didn't see a wand on Draco, so apparently that was true. Vampires weren't much of a challenge to an armed and trained wizard with his wits about him. But to one that was unarmed, the enhanced speed, reflexes and strength were extremely difficult to overcome.

Double doors to the exit of the room were roughly ten feet behind her, but she would meet guards in a mad dash for the building exit. Draco would catch her anyway, and she had no hope of outrunning him. Ten times faster, indeed.

She studied him, putting one hand out into the air between them so as to keep her distance, and one hand clutching the sheet to her body. The Order hadn't seen or heard of Draco Malfoy in over twenty months. She thought that he had been executed. They knew that his father had died from injuries sustained in one of the battles not three months ago, and his mother passed away soon after from illness. However, their intelligence could not confirm her suspicion regarding Draco. This, apparently, was why. The Death Eaters were shamed enough that the likes of Greyback were originally among their ranks. But a vampire? And one turned from the purest of bloodlines? Draco would be an embarrassment. They had more supporters now and could afford to be more exclusive.

If Draco were still human, he undoubtedly would have helped her. They had connected with each other before, deeply. And he had saved her life multiple times. Now he was a vampire. How much did vampires retain of their human feelings? She just didn't know. But seeing as how she had been betrayed by Padma, stripped, and brought to _him_ , she had to assume that he was with her in order to kill her, or torture her, or both.

The thought made her want to vomit.

His growling stopped and she abruptly focused on his predatory stance, and then his grey eyes, now turning slightly silver. More inhuman. He was pale, beautiful, and terrifying. An Angel of Death.

But she didn't have to die tonight.

Her mind raced for what she knew about vampire weaknesses. Sunlight? It was night, and she had no idea how much time she had until dawn. It was summer, so the days were longer. But sunrise could be anywhere from a half hour to eight or nine hours from now. Garlic? There wasn't any food in this room, and she had no idea where the kitchen was. Silver? Surely there had to be _some_ thing in this room made of silver, unless he had purged his living quarters of it. She'd have to keep her eyes open, and stall him.

Could she talk to him?

Her eyes lowered to her left. Could she make a stake out of that table leg?

He was slowly approaching her, and sniffing the air as he did so. His head tilted, following wafts of air as they traversed the space between them. Was it her _scent_ that enthralled him so? He turned back to her and she was struck by the intensity in his grey-sliver eyes, hungry and lustful. She clutched her sheet more tightly to her body. A slight movement drew her gaze to his mouth. He was flicking the tip of his fang with his tongue, and watching her.

She was in trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So would Draco make a good vampire or what?


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Hermione held her arm out in front of her in an attempt to keep some space between her and Draco, much as she would a wild animal. If he got too close, he might bite her. Or do something else, from the way his eyes kept straying to the tops of her breasts and her legs.

In her haste to cover herself, she had inadvertently bunched up the sheet, which barely reached her mid-thigh. She tried to readjust it so that she would be more covered, but it was difficult to do so one-handed, and the sheet opened to reveal the skin of her hip and midsection. Draco's low growl resounded again, and his eyes roamed over her exposed flesh.

This wasn't working. She'd just have to make do with the sheet as is. Clutching it tighter around her body, she wondered if she could appeal to his reason. At least until she had found a suitable weapon. What she needed to do was stay calm, and control her breathing. If she got excited, so would he. If she acted frightened, it would provoke him.

Hermione took a few deep, calming breaths while Draco watched the movement of her breasts.

"Draco?" she said smoothly. "Draco," she tried again until his eyes met hers. She was struck by the shining, inhuman intensity that was there, a mockery of the bright passion of the man in whose body the vampire resided.

Fighting back the tears that threatened to surface, she kept the desperation out of her voice and said, "Draco, talk to me. Where am I?"

She watched his gaze linger over the skin of her neck, collar bone, and the top of her breasts before returning to her eyes. "My manor."

She tried to control her surprise. After the deaths of his parents (and as far as she had known, himself), Malfoy Manor had been abandoned. It must be very powerful magic that succeeded in disguising the fact that he still resided here. He was hiding in plain sight. No one would look for him here. It was a smart play on his part.

Keeping her voice even, she asked, "What are you going to do with me?"

She walked backwards very slowly, so as not to make any sudden movements, and kept her hand out to preserve the distance between them, futile as the gesture was. Just as slowly, he advanced.

Eyeing her throat again, he said, "They want me to torture, fuck, and drain you."

She tried to back away into a different direction, towards a table where there were various knick-knacks; maybe one of them had a bit of silver on them, or could at least be used as a weapon. Draco side-stepped gracefully, blocking her path.

She brought her eyes up to his and tried to keep the wavering out of her voice.

"And is that what you're going to do?"

He was licking his fangs.

"How about two out of three?" he said with a smirk, and she thought she saw a bit of the human Draco that she had known. Was it possible that he was still in there, somewhere?

Her back hit the wall and she swallowed.

"So you're going to kill me?"

He reached out and grabbed her outstretched arm so quickly she didn't even see his hand move. The sudden contact with him made her stomach churn in nervous anticipation. Slowly, deliberately, he brought her hand up to his lips. His hot breath tickled her.

Staring at her flesh, he replied distractedly, "They told me not to."

He had a way of speaking in which he detached himself from the Death Eaters giving him orders. That gave her hope. Maybe this vampire had his own agenda. If she could reason with him, or find the right angle, he might let her escape.

She tried to get her hand back, but knew it was useless. Draco had been much stronger than her in his human form; she had no chance against a vampire. His grip tightened and he turned her hand over, exposing the underside of her wrist to his mouth. Slowly he licked, tasting her. A jolt of electricity shot from the wet path on her wrist to her core, causing her lips to part slightly. His grey eyes flicked back up to hers, glinting silver, observing, and he gave her a knowing half smile.

"S- so, you won't kill me," she stammered, trying to ignore the desire building within her.

She tried to make her question sound like a statement, one that he could either agree or disagree with, but he didn't seem to be paying attention to what she was saying. Her breath hitched as he dragged the point of his fang along the path still wet from his saliva. She tried to pull her hand back, but to no avail. She didn't want to feel this way. Much as she would have loved to be this close to Draco, it wasn't really him. 

"I hope not," he answered with a lilt in his voice. It sounded as if she had asked him if it was going to rain instead of murder her.

So he planned to drink from her, but not to the point of death. At least not on purpose. She took a deep, calming breath and tried to assess the situation. Oddly enough, it appeared that this vampire was being completely honest with her. Or maybe this was part of his interrogation tactic. Either way, it was a strange conversation they were having. She simply didn't know enough about Muggle vampire psychology in order to make a judgment, and knew nothing about wizard vampires. The vampire would acquire Draco’s memories and personality traits, but would be beholden to baser needs of lusting after blood and sex. And then what? She _just didn’t know_.

Draco looked down at her wrist again. He appeared to be deep in thought, and his thumb lightly rubbed the skin over her vein, warming her skin underneath and exciting her. Hoping to find a weapon, she flicked her eyes over the expanse of the room. There was a desk in the corner to her right with quite a few objects on it. Quickly, she brought her eyes back to Draco's face so that he would not see where she had been looking, and she tried to remember what she had seen.

Candle, parchment, gold ink well, decorated quills, wax seals, letter opener. _Bingo._

Considering the riches of Malfoy Manor, if it looked like it was a precious metal, it probably was. The silver blade of the letter opener would be a perfect weapon. If she succeeded in stabbing him, it would weaken his body considerably and she’d be able to physically overpower him. But she’d have to sever his head in order to actually kill him.

She swallowed. She didn’t _want_ to kill him but it wasn’t really _him_ , was it? Even if this vampire was truly Draco, he was working for Voldemort now. She had to treat him as an enemy. How could she stall him and work her way over to the table?

With growing trepidation, she watched as he brought her wrist up to his mouth. Knowing what would come next, she curled her toes and did her best not to flinch. There was a sharp pain when he gently punctured the underside of her wrist with one of his fangs. Slowly, he pulled the fang out and his eyes became hooded as he watched a thin rivulet of blood run down her skin. Groaning, Draco licked the length of her arm. She watched her red, thick blood coat his tongue as it curled back into his mouth.

His eyes rolled back, and the gruff moan which sounded from his chest caused an unsettling warmth to spread below her stomach. As if it would rein in her physical reaction to him, she clutched the sheet even tighter around her body.

She watched him in both horror and fascination. Hermione had never seen a vampire feed before. She knew that their hunger and sexual needs overlapped, and occasionally they fed while copulating with their victims. She wondered if this was to be her fate.

"Are you going to beat me? Torture me?"

Glowering down at her with those inhuman, silver eyes of his, he ran his tongue over his lips with obvious pleasure and asked with a smirk, "Do you want me to?"

"No." Her voice caught in her throat.

It was disturbing her, how he was able to make impending torture and death sound sexy. This whole interrogation scenario was one that she was not prepared for, and could never have imagined. Draco's presence, even as a vampire, had her woefully off balance.

She watched him as he slowly closed in on her while licking the stream of blood from her elbow and back up to her wrist, giving small sounds of bliss as he did so.

"Aaah," his eyes fluttered closed as he emitted another groan from within his chest. "You taste far better than I'd imagined."

He proceeded to lick every last drop from her wrist, hand and fingers. Without breaking the skin, he delicately grazed the pad of her thumb with his teeth, and flicked it with his tongue. She could have sworn that his eyes crinkled with a quick smile.

Was he _teasing_ her? It couldn't be.

But if he wasn't going to torture her, or kill her, that left…

"Are you going to fuck me?" she whispered.

His lips spread in a feral smile, exposing his fangs again. "Oh, yes."

She couldn't help it. She felt her own wetness below. Draco as a vampire was very sexual, and everything about him was making her respond to his closeness, his heat, and his lust. She rubbed her legs together.

Giving her a predatory leer, he slowly inhaled through his nose, showing her that he could indeed, smell her desire, too. She shivered. As if to confirm her thoughts, he closed the small space between them, gathered a fistful of the sheet covering her bum, and pressed himself to her core.

_Merlin!_

She could feel every inch of him through his trousers.

It was so cruel. She wished they would have just killed him. This vampire in Draco's shell made the loss of his life that much more acute. Closing her eyes to stave off the tears, she told herself that this man with Draco's eyes and Draco's mouth and Draco's body wasn't really him. She had to kill him and get out of here.

He slipped his hand around her waist and dug his fingers into her over the sheet. A small whimper escaped her.

She opened her eyes again. The sight of his fangs lowering to her wrist brought her back to the present, and her heartbeat sped up. Considering that feeding from her left him severely preoccupied with his own pleasure, she wondered if she could take advantage of him while he was drinking. He might be stronger and faster than her, but he still had male anatomy.

She tensed, priming to knee him in the groin so she could dash for the letter opener. Draco splayed his hand over her back, angled his head, bit down on her wrist and sucked.

She gasped. The pain was sharp, but it was quickly overshadowed by a warm desire spreading from where he was drawing on her wrist. All thoughts of the letter opener were forgotten as she felt his mouth pull at her very being, from the tips of her toes, through her limbs, her torso and back to her wrist.

Suck… suck…

She felt herself enflaming from the inside. She was hot and her body was thrumming. The lust she felt was so intense that a guttural cry suddenly escaped from her throat.

Draco extracted his fangs from her wrist and she panted as he released her from his pull. She was left with an achingly empty feeling down below.

Hermione tried to catch her breath while Draco watched her. His eyes were heated, and surprised. Apparently, he hadn't been expecting that reaction either. Wordlessly, he again brought her wrist up to his mouth, now red with her blood.

"No! Wait!" she gasped before she could stop herself. Her panic would only spur him on.

His bloody smile was devilish and his silver eyes gleamed at her. "Just one more sip."

"No! Nooooo!" Her protest turned into a moan as his fangs slid into her flesh, and lust again inflamed her body. The rush of ecstasy which followed was so strong that her knees buckled. She felt his arm catch her from behind and press her harder against him. The sensation built up and she again felt pleasure ripping through her with each draw on her wrist.

He shuddered with each pull when she keened and began to shake as her orgasm passed through. Slowly, he removed his fangs from her wrist and pulled back. She gulped for air, eyes wide with disbelief. Draco's expression was a mix of fascination and need. He made to bite her again but she protested, trying to do so more calmly this time.

"No," she gasped. "No," she stated more firmly.

He looked at her, observing, contemplating. It was almost as if it was him. How much of Draco _was_ _there_ in this vampire before her? Was she deluding herself? Was she only seeing him because she wanted to?

"Please, Draco," she said evenly. "Please, wait. You're going to do whatever you want to me anyway, can we just wait a bit?"

Slowly, an amused smile spread across his face, but he didn't bite her. Again, she couldn't shake the feeling that it was really _him._

Her voice was calm. "Please, Draco."

She tried to pull her hand away, but his grip was like a vise. Slowly, he licked the puncture wounds he'd left, his tongue blazing a hot trail on the underside of her wrist. She tried again to yank her hand away. He loosened his fingers on her wrist by only a few millimeters, but it was enough for her hand to squeeze through and she pulled away from his grasp. She turned her wrist over to inspect it, and to her surprise, saw no markings. It was extremely difficult to heal punctures without leaving so much as a scar.

"Does your saliva close the wound? I didn't know that vampires could do that." She clutched her sheet and tried to inch to the right, closer to the desk.

The corners of his lips twitched upward.

"I'm a wizard, Hermione."

Inch by inch, inch by inch. He retracted his fangs. She gave a mental sigh of relief.

"But you have no wand," she argued.

He blinked at her, neither confirming nor denying her declaration. Her eyes widened in comprehension.

"And you didn't say anything either! All you have to do is…" her voice dropped to a disbelieving whisper, "think?"

The implications of that were staggering. Not only could he easily overpower nearly anyone physically, but also magically. Draco nodded, almost imperceptibly.

"Contrary to the hearsay," he said.

So he had researched his condition, and found that reality—much to Hermione's chagrin—offered something that wasn't recorded in books. _Fascinating._ But if Draco was so powerful, why didn't the Death Eaters use him? He would be the ultimate weapon, and no one would suspect it. What was going on here? Inch by inch. Draco caught her arm and cocked his head; a lock of his blond hair fell to the side.

"Where are you going?"

_Shit!_

In the blink of an eye, he disappeared and reappeared in front of her, twirling the letter opener in his fingers.

"Is this what you want?"

She swallowed. She had to stay calm. She had to keep him talking so she could stall. Think. _Anything._

"I guess it won't be of much use to me if you can touch it without pain."

"Platinum," he said, answering the question on the tip of her tongue.

She exhaled slowly. She was _so_ fucked. As if he could read her thoughts, he gave her a malicious smile, and the inhuman gleam returned to his eyes. To her disgust, he extended his tongue and dragged the letter opener over it, slicing it. His blood pooled on the surface, dripped over his chin and fell down to the carpet, staining the fibers deep red. She looked up and saw that he was giving her _that_ look again. It made her feel sexual, and female, and acutely vulnerable. She was running out of time.

A stake... how could she distract him long enough to make a wooden stake? She was running out of options. Maybe she could draw him into a conversation.

“Has anyone in Voldemort’s army tried to hurt you?”

He didn't react, but instead cupped the back of her neck with his hand to draw her to him. His lids were half closed and she looked down at his bloody mouth, feeling both desire and revulsion at the thought of kissing him this way.

She tried another tactic. She had to get him talking.

"It's not real," she said in a lowered voice, her lips brushing his. "The desire isn't real; it's induced by your vampiric abilities."

_Of course! He didn't need a wand._

"You charmed me when you drank from me. None of this is _real_ , Draco."

He backed away slightly, eyes flashing down at her. She felt as if the intensity in his eyes was laying her bare before him. For a fleeting instant, she _knew_ that she saw the human Draco in there.

In a husky voice, he replied, "I did no such thing. This is the most real sensation I've had since..." His gaze flickered down to her lips. "Then."

Draco's eyes met hers again, and she understood. The man and the vampire were one and the same. Her heart raced with the knowledge that he was within her grasp, if only she could reach him. She just needed to stave off his bloodlust.

But if she couldn't…

"Your reaction was…"—he smirked—"most surprising."

He leaned down to kiss her. Trying to keep the panic out of her voice, she spoke, "Draco, I… wait—"

Before she could utter another word, his mouth was on hers and his tongue was inside her. He dropped the letter opener to the ground with a thud. Any thoughts of resisting flew out the window as she felt Draco's hands roaming over her body, and his tongue swirling in her mouth.

She felt warm, encased by him. Her heart fluttered from being in his embrace with his arms around her. Desire for this man, this vampire, made her skin hot. Unable to resist, she responded and shifted her hips slightly, rubbing into him and eliciting a few animalistic grunts.

She felt the tears come unbidden. Much as she had dreamed of being with him, she now anguished over the circumstances of their kiss. The Death Eaters had brought her to _him_. Her heart simply ached and she dug her fingernails into his bare shoulders in despair. He bucked into her in response. Fighting back a sob, her throat tightened and she accidentally swallowed his blood. It was sweet, not as metallic as she would have expected.

_That was it!_

The sudden realization snapped her out of the self-pitying thoughts. If she turned into a vampire, not only would she be a match for him, but she could easily overpower any guards on the way out. Maybe she could mount her _own_ attack here. If she was going to die, she would take as many of them as she could with her.

Lacing her fingers into Draco’s soft hair to hold his head still and close to her, she tenderly, experimentally, sucked the blood from his tongue and swallowed. Suddenly, he tensed, and then his entire body gave a violent shudder. He slowly pulled away from her, and her heart beat rapidly in fear. Would he know what she was doing? She looked up at him and her lips parted in surprise.

His features were graced with an expression of absolute rapture. His eyes were bright and luminous in their silver color. His mouth was slightly open and his fangs were gleaming, dripping with his blood and hers.

"Do it again," he rasped.

She brought her free hand up to grasp his hair, but she could scarcely pull his head down to hers before his mouth was already on her. Their lips locked and his tongue pushed against hers, wanting more. Slowly, she sucked, and swallowed his blood. He grunted, shuddered again, and pressed himself into her. He was naked now. She could feel it through the sheet. He must have vanished his trousers.

She sucked again, and swallowed. He groaned into her mouth. She did it again, and again, and again. He groped at her back, clutched at her rear, pulled on her arms, threaded his hands through her hair, and pressed himself into her until he could do nothing but writhe against her. She felt his chest vibrate as he growled and groaned each time she drew on his blood.

Suddenly, he dug his fingers into her flesh and rocked up and into her. A warm wetness spread on the sheet over her stomach.

_Did he just…? Merlin! That was the most erotic experience she'd ever had._

Draco rested his forehead against hers, and she opened her eyes to see that his were closed. The low growl now sounded more like a contented purr, and the vibrations from his chest were almost soothing.

Would he let her do that to him again? Or would he be suspicious? She would need a lot more blood to become a vampire. Not to mention that she had to lose more of hers. At least, with this method of acquiring it, she wasn't in a position of complete weakness.

She considered her options. Maybe she could get him to talk to her some more, now that his more primal needs had been met. Slowly, she tried to extricate herself from his embrace. Clutching her sheet, she released his neck and slid to the left. In the process, her thigh rubbed against him and to her surprise she felt that he was still rock hard.

Draco's eyes snapped open at the friction and he growled down at her.

He looked dangerous. She tried to keep the waver out of her voice and address him calmly.

"Dra—"

Firmly, he tugged at her sheet and it fell into a pool around her feet. For a full second, he leered at her nakedness, unmoving. She steeled herself.

_Here it comes._

Unexpectedly, he dropped his head down and started roughly sniffing her hair, her face and her neck. He lowered himself further and his mouth and nose grazed her breasts, nipples, and stomach. His hands followed, kneading her skin. She gasped as he went lower, touching her, licking her, gasping into her skin and inhaling her everywhere.

She felt overheated and yet she shivered when he knelt before her and began to lick her inner thigh where some of her fluid had dripped down. He lifted her leg and pinned it to the wall to gain more access. The pressure of his tongue increased, and he indiscriminately lapped at the inside of her thighs, juncture, and groin.

There was no finesse. He was like an animal, licking and lapping at the skin of her thighs, lower abdomen and her folds. She yelped each time he touched her clitoris, and he painfully dug his fingers into her posterior and thigh. She splayed her hands against the wall to brace herself. He licked faster, and became rougher with her, grunting with each movement. Sometimes, the pressure of his tongue caused an uncomfortable pain on her sensitive nub, and other times it caused a jolt of severe pleasure; she never knew what would come next. She threaded her fingers into his hair in an attempt to control his movements, but to no avail.

Suddenly, she screamed at the piercing pain of his bite and then bit her lip as Draco drank from her, grunting and moaning with abandon at each suck and swallow. She could feel the skin at the junction of her inner thigh being suctioned into his mouth. Without warning, a sharp, severe pleasure rolled through her body and she threw her head back, keening and thrusting towards him. Without breaking contact, he reached up and dragged her down to the ground. Her head hit the floor and she bucked her hips. To restrict her erratic movements, he pinned one leg down and held her other above his shoulder, wrapping it around his neck.

Knowing that she might die was the only thing that kept her cognizant through the whirlwind of sensation. Straining her arm, she reached for the letter opener. It wasn't silver, but it was sharp. As another wave of pleasure overtook her, she cried out and stabbed him to the hilt in between his shoulder and neck. Abruptly releasing her, he reared back and roared in pain. But since the blade wasn't silver, he removed it in a blink of an eye and was back on top of her, fangs bared, and snarling angrily over her.

"You would have killed me," she gasped, trying and failing to keep her voice steady.

She might still bleed to death from the bite to her thigh if he didn't regain enough of his mind to heal her soon. She didn't even know if he would.

The anger in his face subsided slightly. His wound was bleeding onto her breasts and her blood was dripping from his mouth. He licked his lips, eyeing the small pools and rivulets of blood decorating her chest. Before he could bite her breast too, she lunged and bit down on the stab wound she had made between his neck and shoulder. Draco howled. Hermione wrapped her arms and legs around him, holding on as tightly as she could, and swallowed as much of his blood as she was able. His body shuddered and he moaned with abandon each time she sucked the blood from his veins. She felt his arms encircle and lift her body so that they were sitting upright. Without warning, he slid up her passage and sunk into her. They both gasped. Hermione lifted her head briefly and turned to Draco. His eyes were shining; he was terrifyingly beautiful.

"Please,” he rasped at her. “Don’t stop.”

She bit at the juncture between his neck and shoulder again, drawing more of his blood, and Draco pulled her down hard, impaling her as far as he could.

"Huu-uuuh!" she grunted as the air was forced from her with the power of his thrust.

He began to rock his pelvis back and forth, and maneuvered her hips and bum to his movements to increase the force of his entry. Their bodies, now splattered with blood, slipped and slid back and forth with each penetration. He pushed and pulled on her pelvis, grunting and growling. The sounds coming from him were increasingly desperate and frustrated, as if he were reaching for something unattainable. She drank once more from him when suddenly, she found herself flipped over on her hands and knees.

"Aaaaah!" she yelped in surprise.

Before she had a chance to catch her breath, he pushed her chest down to the floor, circled her underbelly with his arm to lift her rear higher up into the air, and thrust into her from behind with a roar. She whimpered, half in pain, half in pleasure. She tried to grab onto something to brace herself, but there was nothing on the floor that would help. Her body rocked forward, slipping on the hard wood floor with each of his thrusts, completely out of control.

Hot breath was on the back of her neck and, knowing what would come next, she grabbed his forearm and bit down on the underside of his wrist as hard as she could.

Draco thrust, howled, and sank his fangs into her, claiming her. The pleasure was so intense, it was all she could do to keep drawing on his blood. Her vision went black and wave after wave of orgasmic bliss rocked her body with each of his frenzied thrusts.

She heard an unrestrained wailing and realized that it was her own as he rammed into her. Just when she thought she might die in the throes of rapture, he grunted into her neck and sank into her, once, twice and a third time before hot seed emptied into her.

Panting, he leaned over her for a few seconds before delicately extracting his fangs. A warm tingling told her that he had closed all of her wounds, and he kissed her where he had bitten her on the neck. She tried to keep sucking the blood from where she had bit him on his wrist, but he gently pried her mouth away, removed his arm, and rolled off her onto his back. Her legs finally giving out, Hermione collapsed on the hard wood floor in a mess of blood and fluids. She couldn't move anymore, and just lay down on her stomach. Resting her head on her forearm, she turned to face Draco.

He was lying on his back with one arm behind his head, facing her, studying her. Even with the blood matted in his hair and dripping from his mouth, he looked sated, content and completely human. His eyes were now the grey she remembered. Slowly, a lazy post-coital grin graced his features.

"Did you like drinking my blood?"

He ran his thumb over his jaw, collecting some more of her blood, and smiling, gingerly sucked it off of his thumb.

She exhaled, her voice was hoarse from screaming. "I would have died without it."

Draco glanced up at the ceiling, and then back at her. He looked slightly disgusted with himself and said, "I don't think so, I could have…" He sighed in resignation. "Yeah, you're probably right."

Weakly, she reached for the sheet, now completely bloodied. Draco seemed every bit the human man she knew, and his penis was lying limply on his thigh, but there was no reason to parade herself around and risk tempting him further. He grabbed her wrist as she pulled the sheet up.

"Please, don't cover yourself." His voice was soft, pleading. "I want to… look at you."

Her throat felt tight. He sounded so tender and caring. She thought she just might cry again. What a horrible world they lived in. She glanced at his eyes. He looked sated, and his fangs were retracted despite the mess of blood around them, but she didn't want to take the chance.

"Draco, I won't live through another round. You can't control yourself."

He stared at her and firmly removed the sheet from her hand. For a fleeting instant, she despaired at the thought that even at his most human he couldn't be reasoned with. But he swiftly shook out the sheet and spread it over her himself, so that everything but her face and the arm she was resting her cheek on was covered.

She didn't know what to think at this point. Her plan didn't work. She hadn't been able to drink enough blood to become a vampire; he had pulled his arm away. Her only hope was if Draco were to change her himself. But seeing as how she was betrayed by Padma and brought to him, he would never give her an opportunity to overpower him. Maybe he didn't want to kill her, but he surely wasn't going to allow her to escape.

The stark realization that it was possible for Draco to be in complete control of himself made everything worse. He was conscious of his actions at this moment, and completely aware of himself when not at the mercy of his own bloodlust. That meant that he had, in sound mind and body, agreed to do Voldemort's bidding, which included everything that had happened to her up until now, and whatever he would do to her in the future.

He leaned back on the floor and slowly turned to face her. The dark blood on his face contrasted with his pale blazing eyes, which were full of regret.

"I'm sorry," he said, clearing his throat. "I didn't mean for this to get out of hand."

Her throat hurt, her chest ached. Her whole body hurt, inside and out. She was spent, exhausted… and her heart had been broken. Much as she didn't want to believe it, she had lost him to the other side.

"What difference does it make? Isn't that what they wanted you to do?"

He flinched, and said, "Partly."

She blew a curl out of the line of her vision. "So, what are you going to do to me now?"

He turned back to her, searching her face for…what?

"That depends on you."

She let out a mirthless laugh. Of course. Give them answers and he'll let her live? Or spare her a painful torture? She would never have imagined an interrogation scenario like this in a million years. He hadn't even asked her any questions yet. Not about missions, locations, Horcruxes—nothing, and she already felt defeated.

This must be the beginning of the interrogation now. She was already light-headed and weakened from the blood loss. Seeing Draco again, changed and now working for those that he had despised just made her sick. He had probably told them of her feelings for him, which would be precisely why she was brought to him.

She didn't know how much more of this she could withstand. She already felt used and broken by his betrayal. She was physically, mentally, and emotionally spent. At this point, she didn't have the strength to resist an interrogation.

Being a strategist herself, she had to appreciate how well thought out the whole scenario was.

"Fuck," she muttered to herself.

Utterly exhausted, she allowed her eyelids to close. After doing her best for her friends, family, and the wizarding world, suicide didn't scare her. She was ready to die.

_Good-bye Harry, good-bye Ron. And good luck._

Draco's voice interrupted her thoughts. "Do you still want to be a vampire?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An apology to all the vampire purists: cold doesn't do it for me. So in this world, vampires have a pulse, sweat, breathe and are a toasty 98.6.
> 
> Also? No sparkling.

**Chapter 3**

Draco's voice interrupted her thoughts. "Do you still want to be a vampire?"

Hermione's eyes snapped open. "What?"

He was sitting up now, splattered with blood, and leaning back against the wall with his elbows resting on his knees. His eyes were half shut in a post-coital, post-feeding bliss.

"You were almost there, so I pulled away. Although I could imagine nothing better than…" He stared down at her, swallowed, and seemed to be reconsidering his words. "My alternative was death, otherwise, it's not something that I would have chosen. You'll be more powerful, but you'll…"

In disbelief, she watched shame grace his face. He looked down at his hands and said, "You'll have difficulty controlling yourself… even around those you love."

Was she delirious? With the way that her head was reeling, she just might be.

He looked pained, and continued, "I don't know why you would want this. I think you're making a mistake, but I can deny you nothing."

He leaned forward, laid his wrist on the floor next to her face and magically opened a small wound for her to drink from.

"It won’t take much more. I can feel you on the edge of transformation already. Your body will heal quickly once you do."

Her head was swimming. She couldn't process what was happening. None of this made sense.

"But I—"

"Would you rather suck from somewhere else?" He smirked down at her. And _there_ was the Draco she knew and loved. He was confusing her even further and she felt unable to think clearly.

She struggled to sit while keeping herself covered in the bloody sheet. Draco leaned over to help her and she averted her eyes from his privates. He seemed to be completely at ease sitting naked and splattered with blood—a vampire in his most natural state, she supposed. He wrapped the sheet around her and over her shoulders so that she remained completely covered, and tenderly propped her up against the wall.

Reeling from the blood loss, she struggled to bring her vision into focus. "If you changed me, I could overpower you and leave."

"Is _that_ why you wanted it? I was going to let you leave anyway, after we… after I…" He looked down at his hands, and back up at her. "I didn't think I would hurt you." He made a sound of disgust and turned away.

 _What_ was happening? She felt faint, she couldn't think. There were too many things to process right now, and the price of erring was high. Was this a trap? She felt a swift rush of air, and before she completely understood that Draco had disappeared, he had already returned. Several vials filled with a dark blue liquid were in his hands.

Her head lolled and she looked down at them questioningly.

"Blood-Replenishing Potion."

But, of course, and laced with Veritaserum so she would reveal identities, strategies and locations.

"Well played, Malfoy," she slurred.

She'd kill herself before she betrayed anyone. Her vision started to darken and she felt as if she were going to throw up.

"Hermione."

Draco's gray eyes swam in front of her.

"Hermione…" His voice was a caress.

Everything went black.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"A _gain_ , Granger? There's no point in pretending you're still sleeping. The temperature of your blood and the rhythm of your heart beat tell me when you wake."

Hermione opened her eyes to glare up at Draco, who was smirking down at her. She was cradled in his arms and his hard body shifted underneath her. Thankfully, she was still covered by the sheet, but her body was sticky with all of the dried blood. She felt revitalized, which meant that he must have force-fed her the potion after she passed out.

He was humming, and his fingertips were lightly playing with her hair and massaging her scalp. She shut her eyes, trying to ignore the tingling in her body, and her feelings for him. She couldn't let him mindfuck her. She had to figure out what was happening. Exhaling sharply, she opened her eyes and looked up at him.

"Did you drug me?"

His expression was impassive. "No."

Through it all, he hadn't lied to her yet. Even if he had put Veritaserum in the potion, and told her so, there wasn't anything that she could do about it.

"Ask me something." She wanted to be certain.

"How many times did you come?"

She sat up and turned around to face him.

Still sated, still no fangs. Still smirking.

Truth be told, she had no idea how many times she came, but she had no compulsion to tell him that, which meant that…

It was as if she'd been on a roller coaster that just came to an abrupt halt and sped off in the opposite direction. She studied his eyes, which despite his lecherous smirk, were reflecting the longing she felt towards him.

"You'd honestly let me go?"

His smirk fell and his voice softened.

"You know I would."

God help her, she didn't ever want to leave him. Hot tears began to sting her eyes. So too, did Draco's become luminescent in their intensity. He looked as if there were several things that he wanted to say to her, but there was no need. She understood him, she always had.

"I wish…" he took a steadying breath, "I wish that things were different for us."

Reaching out from underneath her sheet, she clasped his hand. He looked down, and slowly exhaled. Delicately, he encased her hand in his, taking whatever she would offer.

"I love you too, Draco."

At her admission, he gave a slow, sad smile. She threaded her hand through his hair and brought his head to rest in the crook of her neck.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

_Draco was bent over on the floor in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. His body repeatedly shuddered with sobs that he couldn't control, and they echoed off the tiles. The never ending panic and helplessness had taken such a toll on his mental and physical state that he had no control over either, and simply needed release. The tears had long since stopped flowing, but the pain in his chest kept him heaving and retching._

_He hadn't heard anybody enter due to the violence of his distress; he had locked the door and glamorized it to look as if there were repairs being made to keep intruders out. Therefore, the feel of a gentle pressure from a small hand on his back surprised him._

_He didn't think much about who it was, only that there was another soul with him in his loneliness and desperation. So when the hand slid to his shoulder in an effort to cradle him, he allowed his body to be guided to a kneeling position and he laid his head on a warm robe-covered lap. Wanting to be closer, he wrapped his arms tightly around what felt to be a petite girl. Her warmth added a small amount of comfort to his cold isolation._

_She lightly stroked his hair and rubbed his shoulders while he continued sobbing. Just wanting to feel the closeness of someone else, anyone else, he clung to her tightly, digging his fingers into her sides. She hummed an unfamiliar melody, interspersed with the occasional "Sssshhhh." Slowly, slowly, the frequency of his heaving lessened until his breathing took on an almost regular cadence, interspersed with the occasional shuddering gasp for air._

_Had Pansy followed him into the boys' loo? He had distanced himself from her lately, along with most of his other friends this year._

_His eyes felt puffy and they stung, so he rubbed them before looking up. The humming stopped._

_Granger._

_Sitting on the bench by the bathroom window, her hazel eyes studied him, but the expression on her face was neutral. He was surprised, but too exhausted and defeated to really care about the implications of what was supposed to be his enemy seeing him this way. Furthermore, a hit to his reputation paled in comparison to the far worse problems that he was dealing with._

_After it appeared that neither would say anything, she again stroked his hair and resumed her humming. Feeling dumbstruck by her quiet acceptance of him, he slowly rested his head back down, nestling into the "V" of her closed legs. Wanting to get closer, he pressed his chest to her knees, and clutched her body tighter._

_If this made her uncomfortable, she didn't say anything, and continued comforting him. He closed his eyes and found himself reaching around her slim body, rubbing small patterns on her back and sides with his fingers. He was reveling in her presence, her stroking, her humming, and the warmth of her body. And yet his heart still ached. The pressure in his chest was still there, as it had been since he'd been given the mission to kill Dumbledore._

_"Draco." Her voice was a whisper, barely disturbing the quiet of their half embrace._

_He couldn't tell if she was asking him a question or just saying his name to comfort him._

_"Draco," she repeated. His given name sounded foreign coming from her._

_He rested his chin on the tops of her thighs and looked up. Her eyes were non-judgmental, sympathetic, and… beautiful._

_"If this is what it's doing to you," she said as she delicately pushed aside his fringe, "you're on the wrong side."_

_He was so exhausted that he felt numb and his eyes closed of their own accord._

_"I know," he mumbled._

_She cupped his cheek and he leaned into her soft, warm palm._

_"Please. Talk with Dumbledore."_

_His throat was dry and hurt from crying and retching. He shook his head._

_"Can't," he rasped._

_Hermione brushed his cheek with her thumb. He felt a slight residue from his dried tears flake away. She caressed his cheek back and forth lightly, watching the movement. The pad of her thumb traveled over his upper and then lower lip. She pressed her thumb into the soft crease, rubbed it, and then returned to caressing his cheek._

_He felt shaken from the intimacy of her gesture and wished that she would do it again. He looked up at her, and her eyes widened in surprise at what she saw in his. She withdrew her hand. It was shaking. Not wanting her to stop touching him, he tightened his grip around her waist._

_She stammered, "If - if you're worried about the rest of the—"_

_There were only two people that he gave a fuck about._

_"My parents," he croaked._

_She looked at him questioningly. He lay his head back down on her lap. The pain in his chest was beginning to swell again. He shut his eyes tight and squeezed her, causing her to gasp._

_"He'll kill us all," his voice was barely a whisper._

_At voicing the threat which had been hanging over the Malfoy family since the school year started, and the consequence for failure of an assignment that he was solely responsible for, he found his panic returning. His world was crumbling apart and there wasn't anything that he could do. Everything was out of his control. He ground his teeth together and unwittingly crushed Hermione in his arms. He just wanted to feel something besides despair, to hold onto something so that he wouldn't be so lonely in this cage constructed for him by the Dark Lord._

_"Aaah! Malfoy, that hurts!" she protested._

_Immediately, he released her waist and crawled up her body. Hermione's eyes widened._

_"Draco?" she said, trying to discern his intentions. "What are you doing?"_

_He gripped the bench, raising himself, grabbed her upper arm with his other hand, completely encircling it with his fingers; he released the bench and laced his fingers into her hair. With a quick intake of breath she gave a panicked glance to his lips._

_"Draco?" she whispered. "Draco?" But her eyes were dark and her breathing came in erratic pants. She wanted it, too._

_He tilted her face up to his, and before she could say anything else, his mouth descended on hers. She didn't move at first, but when her disbelief melted into responsiveness, warmth encompassed him. He pressed the softness of her body against the hardness of his and she let out a whimper._

_He prodded her mouth open with his tongue, pressing and pushing, doing all he could to feel her hot, wet mouth. Massaging, and probing, she in turn explored his mouth, tasting him. He sucked on her bottom lip and she gasped after he nipped her. His head was a whirlwind from the sensations he felt in his body. Releasing her lips, he continued his assault on her neck with increasing passion. Desire completely overcame him, and he pushed her down on the bench and covered his body with his, reveling in the feel of her. She was so soft and warm._

_He felt her hands thread through his hair and grip the back of his neck and he let out a gruff moan. Reaching down, she snuck her hands up into his robe to feel his chest through his shirt, digging her fingers into the fabric. He needed her, needed the contact. Panting, he roughly pried her robes open and worked on the buttons of her blouse._

_She ran her hands over his chest and shoulders under his robe, trying to bring him closer to her. The hot tightening in his abdomen spread and he pried her legs apart, grinding his erection against the junction of her thighs._

_Warm. She was so warm there._

_"Draco, wait…" she whispered huskily, and moaned, spurring him on._

_She panted and he grabbed her thigh, moving his hand upwards under her skirt and towards her bum. She tried to protest, but he covered her mouth with his. His tongue was inside her again, his mouth devouring her hungrily. All he could think about was being inside her, touching her, feeling her, and he craved her touch in turn. He rocked his pelvis into hers with a steady rhythm that he matched with his tongue gliding in and out of her mouth._

_"Draco," she whispered, pulling away, "It's too fast, we have to stop."_

_He heard her voice, but her protest didn't register. He needed to feel. He needed human contact. Her breasts were soft and she writhed and whimpered when he squeezed them. His fingers reached down again to her bum under her knickers and he dug into the flesh. His thumb wrapped around her thigh and probed for the source of her wetness._

_"Aaah! No!"_

_All he heard was her cry. His kiss intensified and the thrusts of his pelvis became more forceful. His left hand cupped her bum under her skirt, and moved it so that her core would rub against his erection. Every rub sent a jolt of pleasure through his body. He felt hot and full of tense desire all over. He pulled her knickers down. He didn't care if he ripped them off of her. He wanted her. Now._

_Suddenly, his head flew to the side and his cheek stung with pain. He froze, and blinked, clearing his vision. He looked down at Hermione below him, rubbing the hand she had slapped him with. Her hair was spread out, she was holding her breath, her lips were swollen, and she was watching him, eyes full of lust and apprehension._

_"S-sorry," he said, and blinked again. Her expression turned to one of relief and she straightened her knickers. He backed up slowly, sat on the bench beside her, and ran a hand through his hair._

_He held out his hand to her and her eyes studied his palm for a few seconds. Warily, she took it and he pulled her up to a sitting position as well._

_"It's too fast," she exclaimed breathlessly._

_Draco bent over and held his head in his hands. "I didn't mean to… Hermione… I'm sorry."_

_They had passed the need for pretenses the moment she chose to stay in the bathroom after discovering him. After a pause in which the only sound was the dripping of a leaky faucet, he looked at her out of the corner of his eye and added, "For everything," and looked down at his feet again._

_Another pause, and he heard her voice catch in her throat before she answered, "Thank you."_

_He turned his head and watched her re-button her blouse. She met his eyes, blushed, and looked to the side._

_He motioned to her lap. "Can I…"_

_Wordlessly, she nodded, and he lay down on the bench in a fetal position, resting his head on her lap. He closed his eyes and let his arm hang over her knees. Still wanting to touch her, he lazily caressed her shins, but allowed himself to go no further, much as he craved her._

_They both were silent and again all he could hear was the leaky faucet, and the sounds of their breathing, now deep and even. He felt her fingers return to his hair and he sighed. He wished that the two of them could be someplace else._

_"Draco, when you're ready, go to Dumbledore. Come to us. I'll be there for you. Don't forget that."_

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"Come on, Granger, let's get you out of here. Sunrise is in two and a half hours. They'll be here before then to pick you up, and I..." His voice caught and he looked at her from under his fringe. "I don't know how much longer I can be around you."

Her eyes flickered down to his privates. Still limp, for now. He stood, and still holding her hand, pulled her to a standing position. He exhaled and a quick blast of wind told her that he had just used _Scourgify_ on them both. The display of his magic reminded her of what she was missing.

"Where's my wand?"

At her question, she saw his mouth flatten into a line of reluctant acceptance. It wasn't a lifestyle he would wish on anyone, least of all Hermione, but he had hoped. And yet, he knew it was better this way.

"I don't have it. I'm sorry."

He eyed the bloody sheet wrapped around her body.

"What do you usually wear?"

Hermione looked down at herself, seemingly in thought, but ignored his question.

"Draco, what will they do with you?"

"Nothing," he answered. "I'm leaving; they won't find me."

"Where to?"

He looked out the window and into the night.

"It doesn't really matter. Anywhere I can hunt."

"People?" she asked.

"People taste better than animals, wizards taste better than Muggles. You…" he gave her a feral smile, "taste better than anyone I've ever had."

She raised an eyebrow. "So a Mudblood tastes better than a pureblood?"

"Mudbloods, purebloods, half-bloods, they all taste the same. Really, Hermione, do you want to talk politics at a time like this?"

Hermione furrowed her brow.

"I'm just thinking."

She bit her lip and saw that Draco was staring at her mouth. She didn’t know how much time she had.

"Would you come with me, then? You'd be an incredible asset with your strength, intelligence, power, and—"

"Hermione," he cut her off, "Given the chance, I'd kill you and enjoy it. Immensely. You've witnessed first-hand how hard it is to control myself, especially around you."

"But what if we could keep your needs in check?"

He crossed his arms in front of his chest. "And how do you propose to do that?"

There was a pause while she stared up at him, weighing the advantages, weighing the consequences. Forgoing her human life would be a sacrifice, but the two of them would make for a most powerful weapon indeed. Together, they could win. The numerical advantage Voldemort’s army had over the Order would be meaningless. It would all be over.

"We could hunt together… hunt animals, that is—" Draco made a face of disgust, but as he realized the implication of her suggestion in its entirety, his eyes widened, and his body tensed.

"—and while out hunting, we could…"

He bent over, almost falling to the floor from the exertion of trying to control himself. "Fuck," he whimpered, as his fangs extended.

"Well, yes," she continued, watching him with a small, devious smile. "And we could restrain ourselves with silver if needed. We haven't even considered the possibilities from working with potions.” She began to approach him. “Draco, we can make this work, we can—"

"No, stay over there," he panted. "Just the thought of you…" he visibly shuddered, and continued. "Listen. Hermione. You wouldn't be able to live with your friends. You couldn't have children. No more daylight. Ever. And you couldn't even be with people unless you had fed and…and…" he whimpered and turned around so he wouldn't be facing her.

"Draco…" she called him, lowering her voice seductively.

His voice came out in a threatening rumble, but he refused to turn around. "I have to get away from you, and you have to leave before they come. I can't-—"

She dropped the sheet and it fluttered the ground around her.

With a growl, he reared on her with his fangs bared. His eyes raked in her naked form and she could see his muscles contract as he restrained himself from approaching her. Slowly, she walked towards him. He snarled and backed up against the wall.

"Wait," he rasped, the human in him still trying to convince her otherwise.

Calmly, she picked up the letter opener and closed the space between them. His gray eyes were gleaming with silver, filled with lust, hunger and fear, flicking between the letter opener, her throat, and back up to her eyes. Tentatively, she reached out and touched his fangs with her fingertips. He opened his mouth with a shuddering gasp.

"Give it to me," she whispered.

"Hermione…," he was trembling now. "Please… don't…"

Draco sucked in a shaky breath as she slowly made an incision across his neck and chest. He leaned his head back against the wall and squeezed his eyes shut, shaking as the skin of her breasts, stomach and legs came into contact with his. He brought his arms up to hold her, clenched his hands in the air, and threw his fists back, denting the wall. His entire body was taught, flattened against the wall and shaking with the exertion of controlling himself.

Hermione wrapped her arms around his rigid form, held on tight, lowered her mouth to the incision, and sucked. Suddenly, the wind was knocked out of her as they crashed to the floor, rolling in a violent embrace.

She held on for dear life, drinking as much as she could. Hermione started to feel small changes in her body, but she didn't stop. Suddenly gasping with surprise, she felt her fangs protrude for the first time. She threw her head back, screamed like a banshee, and sank her teeth into Draco's flesh.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

The room was a disaster. It was a mess of upturned furniture, broken glass, torn rugs and other fabrics. The chandelier was reduced to broken shards in the middle of the room, and blood was splattered all over the place. Pieces of the hard wood floor were ripped open, and there were several holes in the walls. Draco peered up at the ceiling where the chandelier should have been. He didn't even remember being up there; how had they managed to do that?

He was naked, sitting with his back against the wall, and purring contentedly. Hermione, equally bare, was lying on the floor, legs stretched out languidly, and resting her head on his lap. He played with a curl of her hair and drew patterns in the blood splattered on her skin.

"How much longer until sunrise?" she asked.

"About a half hour; you'll start to feel it instinctually soon enough."

"Shouldn't we worry about finding a place to hide and rest? They'll be wondering why Goyle hasn't returned with me."

He glanced over at the mangled corpse in the middle of the room and his features flickered with regret.

"There's no rush; it's still night in the United States."

She rose up to stare at him in amazement and his hands fell from her limply.

"You can Apparate to _North America_?"

" _We_ can Apparate to the dark side of the moon if we wanted."

"Bollocks!" she said disbelievingly.

He pinched her nipple roughly and smirked when she bit her lip with a grunt.

"I've done it."

Hermione said incredulously, "But how did you know you could? You might have killed yourself trying. And there’s no atmosphere! And the temperature!"

He gazed back at her, unblinking, and her lips parted in comprehension.

"Oh."

"I was reckless. I didn't care. But, once there…it brought me some peace. It's quiet there, desolate… No Death Eaters, no screaming, no torture, no blood. The view of the earth is even more phenomenal than you can imagine. Although…" he said huskily, contemplating her, "there are far more beautiful sights right here."

She smiled warmly at him, and licked some blood off of his chin. It was Goyle's. He wrapped an arm around her and she nuzzled his neck.

"So we don't have to rest?" she queried.

"We do, but it's possible to go a day or so without. I think that recent events preclude the need for an early bedtime," he said, tugging on a curl playfully.

Hermione furrowed her brows. "Can I send a _Patronus_ from here, or is the manor being watched? I'll need to let the Order know that I'm fine and that I'll be back by sunset."

"I wouldn't recommend it, no. We'll go someplace else to send it." He raised an eyebrow. "How about the sunset after next?"

She pondered this for a moment before smiling devilishly at him. "If you can catch me."

Quick as the wind, she jumped up, ran, leapt off of the third floor balcony and disappeared into the night.

Stretching his limbs and yawning, Draco stood up and leisurely walked out onto the porch. He scratched his torso and sniffed the air around him.

Easy.

He cracked a smile. She still had a lot to learn, but he would have fun teaching her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so you know, I wrote this fic with two different courses of action based on Hermione's decisions. The first, which you're reading now, is that Hermione chooses to become a vampire. The second, which will be a few chapters later and will start at the beginning of this chapter again, is Draco taking her back to the Order as a human. 
> 
> I figured that way this story can encompass the best of both worlds (vampire/vampire, vampire/human). Hopefully you'll like both.


	4. Chapter 4

** Chapter 4 **

Life, as Harry knew it, had ceased to exist.

He was sitting at the kitchen table and staring at the unrolled parchment laid out before him. It was filled with Hermione's tiny, neat handwriting.

Two days ago, a Patronus that they had never seen before had arrived, and Hermione's voice had spoken through it, announcing that she was fine and would be back soon. As if the shock, apprehensive relief and incredulity that they had all felt weren't enough, the Patronus continued to speak and relayed that Padma was a traitor and that more would be explained later by owl.

While the rest of them were at a loss for words, Ron cleverly shot off his Patronus in answer, asking who Hermione had turned into the first time she had taken Polyjuice potion. Harry smiled grimly at the trick question. Whoever was on the other end would assume it was a human that she had turned into.

Much as they wanted to, none of them had believed that this false Patronus could really be Hermione's. Surely it was a ploy by one of the Death Eaters. Either they had the wrong information about the form Hermione's Patronus would take, or Hermione had lied, successfully fooling them under whatever means they had used to extract the information from her.

To their shock, the silvery fox had reappeared with the correct answer to Ron’s question. Hermione's voice reiterated that she would explain her changed Patronus soon, that its original form was an otter, and again, not to worry, she was fine.

She had not used her trigger word, which would have indicated that she was being coerced, but Harry still didn't like it. Padma, who had also gone missing, was now a traitor? And what more would Hermione have to explain? Why the changed Patronus?

This morning, her letter arrived by owl.

He could still see the words "Draco Malfoy" and "vampire" amongst the other words in her letter. They weren't written any differently and were crammed in with everything else that she had committed to parchment, but they might as well have been emblazoned in a neon color.

"Harry," said Lupin.

He felt like he was in a bizarre dream. It just couldn't possibly be true. He would have been more believing if Hermione had died than if she had—

"Harry," Lupin's voice cut through Harry's reverie. "What are you thinking?"

He looked up startled, having completely forgotten that he was sitting in the kitchen with two other people. "I think… I think this is rubbish. It can't be true."

"It doesn't sound like her," Ron said, half in shock. "Something's wrong."

Lupin drummed his fingers on the wooden table, clearly deep in thought. Harry and Ron went back to staring at the dreaded parchment. Suddenly, Lupin rapped his knuckles on the tabletop, startling them.

"Do we agree that it _is_ Hermione communicating with us? After all, she answered the question. I certainly wasn't aware that she had turned into Millicent Bulstrode's cat."

They remained silent, and Lupin took this as a sign of agreement, and that he should continue. "We know she hadn't been coerced in any way _then_ , and she said she would explain more later." Lupin gestured to the parchment. "We _could_ check the parchment to see that it was indeed written by her hand, but I think neither of you doubt that it was indeed she who wrote it."

Ron opened his mouth to protest, but Lupin held up his finger. "You are going to say that Padma would have alerted them to our codes. But notice that Hermione had already told us that Padma was the one who betrayed her when she sent the Patronus." He paused, stroked his stubble, and then added, "I don't think anyone could control Hermione effectively; she's been able to throw off the Imperius curse for some time now. And even if she _was_ coerced in some way, she would not have told us of Padma's betrayal. Padma could have been a spy, but Hermione compromised her as soon as she was able to communicate with us."

"But how would they know that Hermione had informed us?" Ron countered.

"She escaped, didn't she? Or rather, she and Malfoy did. Naturally, the Death Eaters would suspect that she told us."

"So Padma's a Death Eater now?" Ron said with disbelief. "I'd sooner believe that Hermione was a vampire."

"She's not been herself lately," Harry said grudgingly.

"That's an understatement," Ron muttered. "She made Luna look sane."

The three sat in thought.

"Do you think..." Ron began, "that she wanted revenge for Parvati?"

"I guess we'll find out if we meet her in battle," Lupin said warily.

"Revenge is one thing," Harry protested. "She would never be a Death Eater!"

"She betrayed Hermione to torture and death," Lupin countered. "Who's to say what she is capable of now?"

Harry watched Ron, whose nostrils were flaring. "Nothing makes sense. And why would Malfoy be a vampire?"

Lupin shrugged. "Why would I be a werewolf? Bad luck, I suppose. Or…" he raised his eyebrows and shifted his gaze between Harry and Ron, "punishment?"

Ron shook his head in denial. "This whole situation is fucked up. _Malfoy_ helping her escape? _Malfoy_ leaving his Death Eater buddies?"

Lupin raised an eyebrow. "That's the part of her letter which should be the least surprising. _You_ know how the Malfoys were punished after the incident at the Department of Mysteries; the situation that Draco was put in sixth year. Their situation never improved."

Ron crossed his arms in front of him and looked sullenly up at Lupin. "I don't bloody care. They deserved what they got."

Lupin continued, "Deserving or no, it coincides perfectly with what Hermione has been telling us about Draco all along."

Harry had been eyeing the exchange, saying nothing. Finally, he spoke. "Professor Lupin?"

Lupin's eyes shifted to Harry's. "Harry, you don't have to call me that."

"Force of habit," Harry answered. "Assuming that everything in this letter is true, Hermione _chose_ to become a vampire."

Lupin nodded slowly, looking at Harry expectantly.

He took a deep breath, and continued. "Turning into a vampire… it's not something that Hermione would willingly do. To feed off of people? And to…" he felt his face go hot, and wasn't sure how to continue. The mere thought of Hermione participating in what little else he'd heard of vampire behavior was unthinkable. He decided not to finish his sentence. "She even gets depressed when her battle plans end up killing Death Eaters. Remember the fake prisoner exchange? That was our deadliest operation to date. She was moping around for days after that.”

"It wasn't just Death Eaters killed then," Lupin admonished him. “And that might be the reason Padma turned her in.”

"But that wasn't her fault!" Ron protested.

“Her fault or no,” Lupin continued, “It appears that Padma blamed her for the death of Parvati.”

"I just… I just can't believe that she would choose this path willingly. It's not like her," Harry said, echoing Ron's words.

"Isn't it, though?" Lupin said, looking back and forth between Harry and Ron. "She says that because of her transformation, we'll be able to end the war soon. She believes she sacrificed her human life to defeat Voldemort once and for all. Something that any of us would do in a heartbeat."

Harry scratched the table and thought. Would he have done the same in her stead? If he truly believed that it would work?

Absolutely.

Ron asked belligerently, "It's one thing to sacrifice your life, and another to become a vampire. How does her becoming a vampire give us a victory?"

Professor Lupin sat back in his chair and scratched the stubble on his chin again. "I don't know. But this _is_ Hermione. She must know something that we do not."

Harry looked down at the cuff of his sleeve. He had been steadily pulling a loose thread out of his sweater. "Yeah," he chuckled mirthlessly, "she tends to know what she's talking about."

"But what happened to her otter?" Ron asked, an extremely sullen look on his face.

Lupin answered hesitantly. "An emotional event or similar upheaval can sometimes cause one's Patronus to change. It could be that her transformation to a vampire is the reason…"

Lupin's voice trailed off. He was beating around the bush. Harry knew why her Patronus had changed; it was obvious. Tonks's Patronus had changed since she had fallen in love with Lupin.

"It's Malfoy's Patronus," Harry said emotionlessly. "She's in love with him."

Ron's head snapped up in disbelief. "What? But - no! How can that be?"

Harry sighed and looked to Lupin, who nodded in agreement. "I don't know, Ron. But I'm sure that it is."

"Well, then, he must have given her Amortentia or something, right?" Ron gave Lupin a pleading look, wanting him to confirm his thoughts. "Right?"

Lupin slowly shook his head. "A potion wouldn't affect her Patronus."

Ron ran his hands through his hair, trying to voice the numerous thoughts and objections running around in his head. "But how – she can't possibly – This is just insane! Maybe it's someone else's? Why would _Malfoy's_ Patronus be a fox?"

Lupin looked up at the ceiling in thought. "Oh, I don't know… it seems to fit, doesn't it? Sly, cunning, a survivor, secretive-"

Ron gritted his teeth and cut him off. "Back-stabbing, bottom-feeding, carcass-eating…"

"Professor Lupin," Harry continued, amidst Ron's grumbling. 

“Remus,” Lupin corrected.

Harry ignored him. "It's a lot to swallow. I want to – I _need_ to see her."

"Well," Lupin answered. "We'll see her soon enough."

They all sat in thought for a few more minutes.

"Silver," Lupin said, breaking the tense silence.

Harry and Ron looked up, confused.

"It weakens vampires and causes them acute pain, deteriorating them physically in the process." Lupin was speaking as if addressing a classroom of students. "We should see if we can alter the standard binding spells to include a portion of silver in the ropes. A variation on binding charms shouldn't be difficult to do."

Ron cried out, offended. "I'm not going to hurt her!"

Lupin raised his eyebrows. "What will you do if she tries to feed from you?"

"But..." Harry protested, aghast, "But it's Hermione!"

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Draco was right. Words couldn't describe it. She felt a mix of awe-inspired wonderment and tranquility. The dark, desolate landscape, the complete isolation, and the absolute beauty; Hermione felt at peace. She shifted against the rock that she was leaning on and dug her toes into the soft, grey dust of the moon's surface. It was coarser than sand and crunched under her feet and bare bottom. She hadn’t been clothed once in the few days since she had transformed. It felt natural to be naked. She didn’t feel vulnerable or a need to cover up anymore. The thought of putting on clothes felt similar to acting in a play. Performing a character that was not her.

Draco's pinky finger linked into hers, and she squeezed it lightly. 

"Thank you for bringing me here," she whispered. Her voice was the only sound.

"Anything," he answered and rested his chin on the top of her head.

She looked up at the bright blue hemisphere covered with swirls of white in the middle of their dark black horizon. Her lips parted in amazement. She felt almost god-like, and the thought sobered her. This much power couldn't be good. There were many who had been corrupted from the lure of Voldemort's knowledge and how he seemed to conquer death. What if Voldemort became a vampire? Or someone else? Her thoughts drew her gaze down to the Hufflepuff cup laying in the dust in front of them.

Draco noticed the direction of her glance. "What are you going to do with that… thing? I know you can't tell me what it is, but I can feel the evil in it. It…" His voice cracked slightly. "It makes me think things. I don't want to be near it." He paused, and then added, "I don't want it near you, either."

She delicately wrapped her hands around the stem of the cup and raised it to her eye level, in line with the earth, blocking her view of Europe and Africa. She felt Draco tense next to her and growl.

"I thought I'd need Harry and Ron to destroy it. We used a summoning circle for the last one; it was complicated and exhausting." She peered at the cup, gleaming in the light reflected from earth. "I wonder..."

She concentrated her power on the cup, on the piece of soul within it. She probed with her mind, prodding Voldemort's presence, and gasped as the evil within it reached out to her. She saw flashes of her dead friends. Of herself, Obliviating her parents.

"Put it down," Draco said, his voice trembling with barely concealed terror.

"Wait."

Her will was stronger. This was a broken piece, a shard, nothing more. She surrounded it. It had nowhere to go. It was trapped. It had already confined itself to this object long ago. She focused on the soul, encasing it, suffocating it with her presence, and squeezed. It felt the threat and lashed out. She saw flashes of Harry mourning Ginny’s death and his despair. Of Parvati’s broken body. Of Padma accusing her of negligence. She knew the Horcrux was trying to weaken her but she wasn’t faltering. After failing to fight back successfully, she felt it panic. She narrowed its space, continuing to squeeze it with her will, with her magic. It tried to escape, but it couldn't, since there was nowhere for it to go. Her arms began shaking as she pushed against it, and she felt sweat break out across her forehead.

"Hermione…" Draco said, sounding worried. She could see his hands clutching the dust, knuckles white, struggling with the compulsion to escape its evil and to stay and protect her should something go wrong.

But she didn't dare stop. She pressed it, pushed against it, squeezed it. It had no room. It was caving in on itself. She gritted her teeth with effort and she felt something break and push through. Suddenly, there was a faint scream and the shard ceased to exist. The cup blackened and crumpled in on itself as if it were a burnt piece of paper. Panting, she dropped it. It fell to the dust with an unceremonious thud.

"It's destroyed," she said. Her voice lifted in surprise at her display of power. Draco took a breath and leaned his head back against the rock in relief.

She hadn't realized how on edge he had been since they had broken into Gringotts until she felt his body relax next to hers.

"It doesn't affect you?" he asked, still staring at the blackened remains.

"Not as much as it does you, but I also have more experience with these."

Draco shuddered and then leaned back against the rock they were sitting against. "Are there any more of those… things?"

"Unbreakable Vow," she said, tonelessly.

Draco lifted an eyebrow and looked down at her. "I wonder if that would still be effective, now that you're a vampire."

"We'll find someone else to be your Pygmy Puff, thanks."

Draco's chuckle vibrated from his chest, and she nuzzled into him. Their pale skin was highlighted by a bluish-white glow. Turning up to Draco, she studied him as he gazed at the view. The contours of his nose and the hardness of his jaw, framed by his blond hair, which was luminescent from the lighting, made him look ethereal. As he noticed her staring at him, he turned to face her. His eyes glittered silver-white and became slightly hooded as they, in turn, gazed at her. As he studied her, his mouth slid into a small and close-lipped smile that looked utterly content. She leaned her head on his shoulder again, and he wrapped his arm around her, drawing her into his bare chest. The only sound was a soft rumbling of contentment from his chest.

They turned back and their eyes watched the dark line, marking the divide between night and day as it moved across the continents with the earth's slow rotation. Squinting, she could see the small triangle of the British Isles just to the left of a cloud swirl. Soon enough, the black shadow would engulf England, and they could go back to meet with Harry and Ron.

"I wonder what they're thinking right now," she pondered out loud.

"Who? Scar-head and Weasel?" Draco asked, seeming to know exactly what was bothering her.

Hermione looked up to see him smirking. "Is that what you call them?"

"No. Those are simply the names appropriate for your ears."

Her eyes flashed in irritation and his grin widened at her reaction.

"Appropriate?" Her tone was half amused, half annoyed.

"Oh, come on. How many choice four letter words do you think are coming out of _their_ mouths right now?"

She turned to gaze at the earth again, worried. "Do you think they're mad at me?"

Draco's eyebrows rose. "Not at all. It's me they'll want to kill."

"But you didn't want—" she protested.

He snorted, cutting her off. "They won't believe you."

She drew her legs in and wrapped her arms around them, setting her chin on her knees. "I guess not."

They sat in silence a bit more. He touched his finger to the base of her spine, and barely grazing her skin, traced the line of her backbone. Goosebumps spread all over her body and he smiled as she arched her back and let out a soft yelp.

"Tell me something, Hermione."

"Mmm?" Smiling, she turned to face him, resting her cheek on her knees.

"How did they catch you? You'd evaded capture for so long."

Her smile immediately fell.

"Hey," he said, stroking her hair. "I didn't mean…"

"No, it's okay. It's just… it was Padma."

"Padma?" he said, with an odd look on his face.

She nodded. "I never saw it coming. I had no reason to think that she would turn on us. She was never the same since Parvati was killed, but I never would have thought..." Draco cupped her face in his hand and lightly stroked her cheek with his thumb. She smiled, despite herself. "She never would betray us if she were in her right mind. At least... I would hope not."

"She wasn't."

Hermione's eyes snapped to his. "You saw her?"

He looked at her for a few seconds, opened his mouth slightly, and then shut it again. She saw his Adam's apple move as he swallowed. "I killed her."

She felt her stomach knot, but she didn't move.

He looked down, wary of meeting her eyes, and continued hurriedly. "They brought her to me the night before they brought you, for execution. She had been tortured, but I guess they saw that she was unable to understand what they wanted, let alone answer their questions." He took a breath and looked up at Hermione, searchingly. "She just stood there, she didn't say anything. She seemed to welcome death… smiling when she saw my fangs. I didn't…" he paused. "It wasn't painful for her."

Hermione didn't say anything. Part of her was relieved, knowing that it _was_ a kind of insanity that had claimed Padma towards the end of her life and not a change of heart that caused her betrayal. But mostly, she was just sad, knowing that her friend had died. She would tell Harry and Ron. Both of the Patil women had been incredible fighters. They deserved to be honored in death.

Draco laced his fingers into her hair. He was still stroking her cheekbone with his other hand.

Hermione flicked her eyes to his. He killed Padma. And how many others? What else had he been doing for them? She turned away, not wanting to look at him anymore, and exhaled in disgust. She had been so naïve. She shouldn’t be surprised. Why else would she have been brought to him if he wasn't killing and torturing? Distracted by their happy reunion, the wondrous sights, and her seemingly limitless power, she had avoided it—this role he had been playing for the Death Eaters.

She had been deluding herself.

"Hermione?" she heard Draco's voice, soft and cautious. His thumb now rested on her temple, and pressed down slightly. Firmly, she removed his hand, not wanting him to touch her anymore, and lifted her eyes to meet his. They looked pained.

"How could you…" her voice trembled with anger. "How many people have you killed, Draco?"

His nostrils flared as he exhaled. "I don't know."

"That many?" she said, nearly shaking.

He nodded, wordlessly, his eyes never leaving hers.

"I'm a vampire. I feed. They'd be killed anyway, Hermione."

"But you said that we could live off of animals."

"We can. It's enough to survive, but... the blood won't sate you. Eventually you'll go mad and feed from humans whether you want to or not. It's better to-" She saw a muscle twitch in his jaw. "It's better to stay in control, and human blood helps with that. At least then you can choose who you're feeding from."

Hermione stood up and turned on him with a disgusted look on her face. "So what have you been doing for them all this time?"

His gaze didn't waver, and he paused before answering. "You know what I've been doing."

She felt bile rise in her throat.

"Who?" She didn't want to know, but she couldn't stop herself from asking.

He took a deep breath; there was a resigned look on his face. "Wizards who couldn't be _Imperiused_ , Muggles, the occasional Order member, others who tried to resist, a few Death Eaters, some Muggleborns…" His voice trailed off.

"Dean Thomas? Sturgis Podmore?" she said accusingly. They had gone missing a while back.

“Yes,” he answered slowly.

"Ginny?" she said in a choked voice.

They stared at each other. And she watched him. Hoping, praying… and after what seemed like an eternity, he gave a very small nod of his head in the affirmative.

"Aaaaaah!" she shrieked into the empty blackness, and then she rounded on him, her voice cold. "Did you torture them, too?"

He stood up and glared down at her, hurt and angry. "Of course not!" He paused and looked to the side. "Not intentionally, anyway. I try to make it quick and painless - as much as I'm able. Some had been tortured so badly that they were begging for death."

"So you're a _merciful_ murderer?" she retorted bitterly.

He looked as if she had slapped him, and she stood up and raised her voice, spurred on by his shock and hurt.

"You were never able to kill anyone when you were human! Ever! Not even while fighting!"

She couldn't believe the level of his descent into depravity, and it both infuriated her and caused her to despair. She felt like he was slipping away from her. That he wasn't the person she'd thought he was.

"What happened to you?" she said, choking back an angry sob. She still loved him; she couldn't help it.

He looked out at the earth again. The shadow had almost engulfed England. "Hunger. It's hard to control."

"That's it? Hunger?" Her voice sounded hollow.

He turned to her and she was taken aback by the sadness in his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Hermione," he said tenderly.

"It's not _me_ you need to apologize to," she ground out.

"But it _is_. I never should have let you use me like that." He clenched his jaw. "I should have… I don't know. I should have left the Manor and then found a way to get you out. Anything else but this." He turned to her, with a pleading expression on his face. "Don't you see? I know what I am. I've accepted it. I don't go out looking to kill people, but this is what I am. And now," His eyes bored into hers. "This is what _you_ are. This is what you have to accept."

She shook her head dismissively. "But _surely_ you can—"

"Do you remember feeding from Greg?"

Her eyes widened in surprise. That night was a blur of images and sensations. She remembered the content and sated feeling afterwards, but before then... "But that was Goyle! If it was someone else, I wouldn't have—"

He was shaking his head.

"Stop it! There's no way that I would hurt—"

"You don't understand. You can barely remember attacking him. If Potter would have walked in that room, he would have met the same fate. That's what it's like at the height of blood lust. You're reduced to your basest desires."

"Eating and fucking," she answered tonelessly.

"Do you know what else you did to Greg?"

She felt all the color drain from her face. "No," she whispered, knowing that he was probably right. She closed her eyes in pain and disbelief. Images briefly flashed of her riding Goyle while he screamed in pain and Draco fed from his chest. 

"Yes," he said and he held her face in his hands. "Hermione, I love you. You know that."

Weakly, she nodded and he slid his hands down the smooth skin of her neck, past her bare shoulders, and finally rested them on her upper arms.

"And look what I did to you," Draco continued. She looked up at him, partly in shock from her revelation. He leaned forward and said slowly, "After I had _just fed_."

"But—" she said, feeling defeated.

"Do you think that you can control your hunger better than me? Like how that…" his eyes darkened, "thing affected me more than it did you?"

"I… I just can't imagine myself attacking Harry or Ron. Do you think it's possible… that I have more control?" She could hear the childish hope in her voice, and cringed.

"Anything is possible, Hermione. But I wouldn't count on it." He turned his eyes to the slowly rotating planet on their horizon, and hers followed. "We can go back now."

She nodded.

"We'll have to feed before seeing them."

"Okay."

"Humans, Hermione."

At this, her eyes flashed in protest, but before she could retort, he Disapparated them both.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Draco looked up at the full moon above them and counted to ten. He wished the two of them could just stay up there, away from everything else. Away from the hunger. Away from the war.

"Listen, Hermione. You can't just survive on animals. I'm telling you right now, if you don't feed off of a human before they come, you'll attack them."

Hermione gritted her teeth. "But that doesn't make any _sense!_ If you've eaten, you're full! You have something in your stomach! You're not hungry!"

Draco clenched his jaw. They'd already been through this several times since their return to Earth. The repetitiveness of the argument was driving him up the wall. He couldn't believe how stubborn she was being.

"There is a difference between being _full_ and being _sated_. When you are sated, you can control yourself to some extent. When you are full, you digest what is in your stomach when something better comes along. Why do you think I attacked you that night you were brought to me?"

She looked out across the field, frustrated beyond belief.

Draco turned her so that she was facing him again. "And that is exactly what will happen to you if you don't feed. Trust me, I've been there."

Hermione shrugged out of his grip angrily, and her voice rose. "I'm _not_ going to kill an innocent person every time I want to meet with someone! And I can't believe you _just did!_ "

Draco spread his arms out in front of him. "This is what you chose, Hermione! If you're not going to be realistic, then I have to be. We can't count on binding spells; I've never tried them before! Who's to say that we won't just free ourselves and continue attacking? Who do you think will stop you when—"

The two tensed upon hearing the unmistakable sound of Apparition on the other side of the field. They could hear Harry and Ron talking to each other.

"I'm going to kill him, Harry."

"He's already dead," Harry quipped.

"Not dead enough."

Draco smirked down at her. "You're right; I shouldn't have fed off of that human."

Hermione huffed and stalked towards the voices. Draco followed her with long strides.

They heard Harry admonish Ron. "Let's hear what she has to say. She wasn't able to explain everything in her letter."

“They’re late.” Ron's voice sounded extremely agitated. "There's no way that she would be in love or turn into a vampire on her own. He must have _done_ something to her."

"Oh, if only they knew," Draco purred in her ear.

"Shut it."

Ron's angry mumbling continued. "-completely out of character. How could she possibly tolerate his ferrety, inbred presence? Maybe this whole thing is -"

Harry's voice didn't sound any calmer. "Ron, stop. I don't like it any more than you. Look, they're here already. We’ll get answers now."

Two male forms approached in the moonlight. Hermione saw one of the figures jump and wave.

"Hermione!" Harry called out across the field.

"Not one for subtlety, is he?" Draco drawled.

She wasn't listening. A huge grin spread across her face and she started to sprint towards Harry and Ron. She missed them! But before she could gain much ground, Draco caught her arm and jerked her back.

He whispered to her furiously. "Hermione, please. I know you don't agree with me, but isn't it better to err on the side of caution?" When it appeared that she was just going to shrug him off in anger again, he continued, "Listen. If you don't attack them, you would have proved me wrong. I'll never feed off another human again. Ever."

She drew in a breath. The look in his eyes was so caring. When it came down to it, he was just worried about her.

"Okay," she agreed. She would listen to him. And she would prove him wrong.

"We'll go together, slowly. It's better that you creep up on their smell rather than let it overwhelm you."

"Bugger him," she heard Ron curse under his breath. He must have seen Draco pull her back. "Where does he get off? Just because he's a murdering animal doesn't mean she is."

Hermione called out across the field, "It's okay, Ron. Just stay there. We're coming."

They saw Ron turn to Harry in surprise and heard him whisper, "Can she hear me from all the way over there?"

At this, a smug grin spread on Draco's face. "Ye-es," he answered, his voice ringing out over the field in a sing-song voice.

They heard Ron swear again as Draco and Hermione approached them slowly. She could smell them now, and to her chagrin, was not unaffected. Their features became illuminated in the moonlight and she could see Harry's glasses reflecting back at her. He shifted the weight on his feet and shoved his hands in his pockets, waiting. She wanted to run out and hug them, kiss them, and… and…

She sucked in a breath. She could _literally_ taste their scents on her tongue, and she heard the pace of their heartbeats increase as they approached. She felt an urge to feed almost instantaneously. Draco was right; drinking from that deer wasn't helping her at all. But, that was all right. It was a matter of willpower. She could summon the control. There was _no way_ she would feed from her best friends. It was a case of mind over matter. If she could beat the Horcrux, she could control her hunger.

Harry and Ron were studying the two. They glanced at Draco with hostile expressions on their faces, and back at her with tender, worried, and… wary expressions. At a distance of roughly ten feet, Draco pulled her back to a stop.

She looked up, and he gave an imperceptible shake of his head. Feeling resigned, she kept the distance that Draco had deemed safe. It was upsetting, but she supposed she should be cautious for now.

"Let her come, Malfoy," Ron barked.

Hermione looked up to see him seething after eyeing the exchange between her and Draco. "You don't have to talk as if I'm not here," Hermione answered. "And he's keeping me away for your safety."

"We trust you, Hermione," Ron tried to persuade her. "We know you'd never hurt us."

"It's not a matter of trust, Ron," she answered. "It's better to be cautious."

Ron's jaw clenched. Harry's face was expressionless. She found that Ron's uncontrolled bursts of emotion were exciting her. Sexually. And she was horrified.

Draco flashed a set of white teeth in a humorless smile. "Amusing as it would be to let her have a go at you two, there's a war to win, isn't there?" Hermione glared at him and he cleared his throat. "Apropos the war…" He flung a sack at Harry, who caught it in mid-air without blinking.

The sudden movement made her blood race, and she watched the muscles of Harry's arm contract under his skin while he untied the bag. Draco began to rub tiny soothing circles on the back of her neck.

"Sorry about that…" he whispered into her ear.

Ron eyed the sack and looked mutinously at Draco's offending hand, resting on the back of her neck. "What did he do to you, Hermione? You can tell us."

She sighed. "It was my decision, Ron. And quite frankly, I forced him to do it."

She saw Draco wince at her choice of words and his fingers tensed on the back of her neck.

Ron snorted and cursed under his breath. "Right."

Draco resumed his massaging circles. She could hear Ron's blood pumping furiously through his veins; his anger was rising along with his pulse. Wanting to avoid a fight, verbal or otherwise, she said, "Look inside the bag, will you?"

Ron's scent was overpowering. She closed her eyes and took a breath. _Control._ It was all about control.

Harry wasn't paying attention to their squabbling. He was looking at the crumpled, blackened Hufflepuff cup.

"Fuck me," he said dumbly. "When did you break into Gringotts?"

Ron looked curiously inside the bag.

"A few hours ago," she answered, trying not to think about how warm and inviting their flesh looked.

"A few _hours_ ago?" Ron said incredulously. "But it was daylight! How—?"

She couldn't help it, she glanced furtively at Ron's throat. "We Apparated."

Harry's eyebrows rose, clearly impressed. "You _Apparated_ into Gringotts? That's supposed to be impossible."

"It is. But we could go directly into the Malfoy vault," Draco spoke, clearly enjoying their dumbstruck expressions.

"Blo-o-dy hell!" Ron exclaimed, and looked at the cup. "But then—bugger me! Hermione! It took the three of us fifteen hours of non-stop chanting to destroy the last one." She couldn't take her eyes off of Ron. The sound of the flow of his blood was filling her ears. His excitement was arousing her. She felt herself being pulled to him. Both Harry and Draco were watching her. Embarrassed, she leaned into Draco and closed her eyes briefly, trying to inhale his scent and clear her senses of Ron's and Harry's. She felt Draco's arm circle protectively around her.

"Steady…" His breath caressed her ear.

"That's," Ron continued, "that's impossible!"

"This is what I wanted to explain to you," she said, bringing her gaze back to his eyes. She could feel saliva pooling in her mouth and she swallowed. "We're more powerful than human wizards. Much more. With Draco and I leading off an attack, we can penetrate the wards—"

"You can take down the wards?" Ron exclaimed, flabbergasted.

She saw Harry grab Ron's arm and squeeze it. Squeeze his flesh. _Flesh._ "Calm down," Harry whispered to him quietly.

"—and take them by surprise," she continued, forcing herself to avert her eyes from the muscles and tendons in Ron’s arm. "We could finish this war within the week. That's why I did it. We'll go in, kill Nagini, and then kill Voldemort."

Malfoy flinched at the mention of Voldemort's name, and Harry smirked, but she continued, "They won't be expecting it. So long as they don't realize they're being attacked by vampires, we'll have an advantage."

"What does that repulsive snake have to do with it?" Draco asked.

Harry glanced at Malfoy, who was looking disgusted.

Ignoring him, Harry turned back to Hermione who he noticed was visibly struggling not to not look at his throat, and asked, "He doesn't know?"

Draco answered, "She can't tell me. You all made that Unbreakable Vow." He paused; she could feel Draco's eyes boring into her, but all she could hear was Ron's heart and the thrum of his blood. All she could smell was his blood. She was mesmerized by it. She turned her head away from them and took a deep breath of the night air. It didn't help.

Draco was watching her and then spoke again, "Have you tried that binding spell, Potter?"

Even though both Harry and Draco were staring at her, she brought her eyes back to Ron. He was completely oblivious, holding up the cup, and gawking at it slightly. "Merlin, Hermione! How did you stay undetected at Gringotts long enough to find the vault?"

Having been completely entranced by the veins and muscles in Ron's pale neck, she jumped at the sound of her name. "It was actually pretty easy." She concentrated for a few seconds, and then morphed into Bellatrix Lestrange. “And Draco knew where the vault was.”

Ron yelped, dropping the cup. "Warn a bloke, will you?"

"Ron," Harry said in a low voice, "you need to say calm."

"Calm? Who are you kidding?" he said, gesturing to Hermione.

His heart was thudding rapidly, as was Harry's who had also been shocked to see his godfather's murderer suddenly appear before him. She furrowed her brow and morphed back into herself. They were both staring at her in wonderment. "But don't you see? Just think of the possibilities. We don't even _know_ what our limits are."

She could feel her hunger and desire for the two starting to overwhelm her. She had to say something, anything to distract from the blood pulsing underneath their skin.

"Why didn't you bring Remus? He should have been here as well." She didn't even feel like she was talking; it was as if someone else was. She was so intent on the pulse in the arteries of Ron's throat.

Harry pointed up at the full moon. "He wanted to come."

She started gravitating towards Ron again. Draco gently pulled her back as her voice went unnaturally soft, "Oh, right, I should have known." His flesh looked so warm and inviting. She needed his blood. She couldn't think of anything else besides the warm liquid and his yielding skin. She felt her breathing become heavier, more labored. Ron finally noticed how she was looking at him and he shifted uncomfortably under her hungry gaze.

"It's…it's okay, Ron. I'm not going to bite you." Ron looked relieved, but Harry was eyeing her skeptically. Draco resumed massaging the back of her neck with his fingers, rubbing slowly, possessively. She rocked back and forth slightly with the movement of his fingers, shutting her eyes briefly.

_Mind over matter. Mind over matter._

Draco's voice cut through her thoughts, "Make sure that binding spell works, yeah? She's not going to last much longer."

Harry glared back at him. "We'll try it out on you first then, not her."

"I wouldn't _dream_ of anything different, Potter," he drawled.

Her eyes snapped open as Harry swiftly drew his wand. " _Incarcerous Argentum!_ "

Silver ropes shot out of Harry's wand and wrapped around Draco's arms and torso. He grunted at the pain, and fell to his knees with a grunt. The silver ropes were burning through Draco's shirt, cutting into his flesh, and he hissed. She didn't know why the sight of Draco on his knees, bound and in pain aroused her so, but it did. She felt her fangs extend. It was too much. The smell, the warmth, the taste, the desire. Blood was pumping _everywhere._

"He really looks like he's in pain," she heard Ron say. She turned back to him.

Delicious.

"It fucking hurts, Weasley. Not as bad as the – nnnnnggghhh! – Cruciatus, but it's excruciating-" he grit his teeth and whimpered. "Fucking hell."

She wouldn't hurt him, just a little sip. Just one. She walked slowly towards Ron. He wouldn’t mind, she’d make it good for him.

"I think this would work," Malfoy was saying through clenched teeth. "She was right, the silver—oh, _shite._ Weasley, look out–"

In a flash, Hermione appeared in front of Ron. "Blimey, Hermione! You move fast," he said, not without trepidation in his voice.

Tall, muscular, supple, yielding. All for her. Slowly, she pressed herself against Ron. His body was heating up, and his heart was beating so loudly in his chest it was all she could hear. She slid her palms up his chest and around his shoulders, pulling him down. He was deliciously aroused, she could sense it. She snaked her hand down to feel his prick through his trousers.

"Aaah. Hermi-" he whimpered.

Ron put his hands on her waist, not quite sure if he wanted to hold her closer or push her away.

 _Just a taste,_ she didn't need much. She wouldn’t hurt him. Relishing his closeness, she licked the nape of his neck and felt him shudder in her strong embrace.

Briefly, she thought she heard someone calling her name as she opened her mouth and sunk her fangs into his flesh. Her eyes rolled back and she moaned in pleasure.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Ron gave a yell in pain and disbelief, which turned into a groan, and his body sagged bonelessly against her. Harry was watching the whole scene, entranced. Hermione was rubbing Ron, eliciting a series of whimpering moans from him while his body trembled. He couldn't believe this was happening. She was also giving little moans of pleasure and slowly grinding herself against him. It was all very surreal. Surely Hermione wouldn't hurt him? He could clearly see that she was getting hungry earlier, but she wouldn't drain him _completely_.

Would she?

Harry looked down at Malfoy for confirmation of his thoughts. He had stopped wincing and struggling with his bonds in order to watch the scene playing out before him. There was a very self-satisfied smirk on his face.

"God, I _love_ being right."

Harry couldn't understand what Malfoy found so amusing about the situation. Still in shock, he pulled on her shoulder; surely she could be reasoned with. He really didn't want to cause her the pain that Malfoy was in.

"Hermione?"

Ron gasped, and his eyes rolled back as he clutched onto Hermione's undulating body. She gave a moan of pleasure, and Harry felt his cock twitch at the sound.

"Hermione?" he said louder, and pulled on her shoulder with more force.

"Don't bother," Malfoy grunted from below. "Just—nnnnngh! Hold on, I'll be out of these in a—"

Hermione turned to face him and he felt ice flood his veins.

"Yes, Harry?" she answered, distractedly.

Her eyes were no longer the hazel he knew so well. They were gleaming brightly, partly gold, partly amber. Inhuman. She stared at him in hunger and lust; there was no sign of his best mate from school. Wasn't she in there anymore?

"Hermione," his voice sounded more panicky than he would care to admit. "Hermione, you could have seriously hurt Ron. You have to get ahold of yourself."

She was licking the blood from around her mouth with sensual relish. As she drew nearer, he felt a rush of fear and adrenaline as he realized what she was about to do. He put his arms on her shoulders to keep her away, but she was much too strong and slowly closed in on his throat.

Harry looked over at Ron, who was staring at her dumbstruck, with a hand clamped over his bleeding neck, and sporting a very prominent erection.

"Ron, she's too strong, you have to–uhhhh."

A sharp pain marked where she had bit at the juncture of his neck and shoulder, and she pressed her lithe body against his. To his horror, he felt himself harden as she rubbed herself against his groin, helping to turn her bite from pain into pleasure. He felt hot and yet he shivered from the feel of her soft, wet, mouth on his neck. He couldn't remember what he was trying to do. All he knew was that Hermione was writhing against him in a most decadent way, and he moaned with her movements as she slithered over his body.

Suddenly, she threw her head back with a hiss, and he felt cold air where she had once been rubbing up against him. His hands numbly fell to his sides. Harry felt just as gormless as Ron looked.

Arm trembling with exertion, Malfoy was pressing the silver ropes against her back, and they burned her skin through her shirt.

"Down, girl," he said with a smirk. She rounded on him, growling, and knocked the silver ropes out of his hand.

Malfoy looked up at Harry and Ron, "Much as I would love to see how this would have ended, I think the meeting's over."

Ron looked dumbly at Hermione, who was snarling at Malfoy. "What are you going to do to her?"

At the sound of his voice, Hermione reared on Ron again, hungrily eyeing the blood still streaming from the wound she'd inflicted. Malfoy grabbed her by the waist and pulled her back to him. She struggled to get free, and clawed at the air in front of Ron, eyes never leaving the blood dribbling down from the bite.

He answered with a feral grin. "Distract her."

Hermione succeeded in extracting herself from his hold and lunged at Ron and Harry, who jumped back. But before she could reach them, Draco tackled her to the ground while she growled and struggled against him. She turned around to get at the source of the scent of the blood in the air, reaching out, snarling and grabbing at them. Not without considerable effort, Draco caught her shoulder, twisted her around and slammed her down on her back. He pinned her down and began ripping at her clothes, snarling and exposing her nakedness.

"Harry!" Ron exclaimed, his face pale. "He's–he's raping her!" He raised his wand, but Harry grabbed his hand and forced it down. They watched Draco force her legs apart and thrust violently into her. Ron flinched. She threw her head back and gave an animalistic yell.

"No," Harry said, his voice soft with disbelief. "No, he's not."

Malfoy looked up from Hermione's writhing body, and she clawed at his back, trying to bring him down to her. He gave Harry and Ron another feral grin, flaunting his ownership over her as he thrust once, twice more into her while she arched her back and writhed underneath him. His fangs were out and his eyes were glittering with lust and hunger, much in the same way that Hermione's had when he had interrupted her feeding from Ron.

"Leave," he growled, "I smell your blood."

Harry forced himself to look away, but was unable to block out the grunts, moans and shrieks from their vicious copulating. Ron was staring at them in dumbstruck horror.

"Ron."

He was still staring at them.

"Ron!" Harry raised his voice.

Slowly, Ron turned to face him, mouth half open. He seemed to be both aroused and sick to his stomach from the sight and the sounds coming from the ground before him.

"Let's go." Harry placed his hand on his friend's shoulder, and they Apparated onto the top step just outside the door of number twelve Grimmauld Place. Harry turned the knob and pushed the door open. Here they were, worrying about Hermione being in love with Malfoy; but after what they had just seen, he wished that that was all they had to worry about. He took a few steps inside and then staggered to the left, leaned over, and vomited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, yes, I know you Neil DeGrasse Tyson lovers. If it’s a full moon then Draco and Hermione would be toast if they were looking at the Earth from up there. I couldn’t think of a good reason to not have Lupin at the meeting. If Lupin was there, he never would have let things get that out of control. However, I already wrote the moon portion when I realized my mistake and didn’t want to change the location. Sorry! I am requesting some suspension of disbelief for this bit. We're already in a world with magic and vampires and werewolves so just a bit more...


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Hermione lay on top of Draco, silently watching the bruises on his wrists disappear as she healed him and then delicately released her hold. Similarly, she healed the claw marks all over his body and watched as they closed. A last quivering tremor ran through her from their animalistic struggle for dominance. She had dug her fingers into the earth, into his back, into his buttocks, into his hair as he mercilessly thrust into her, forcing shrieks of ecstasy from her mouth.

Now all was calm and quiet, a stark contrast to the frenzied mayhem of a few moments ago. She was lying on top of him, her head resting on his chest. His breaths came in and out, slowly, deeply, and she rose and fell with the cadence of his breathing. He was still inside her, but starting to soften until he finally slipped out along with his seed.

Slowly, the events of the night returned to her. She remembered why he had attacked her in the first place, and felt humbled and ashamed. She waited for him to say something, but he continued to gently hold her. Finally, she broke the silence.

"You were… you were right, and I'm sorry, Draco. For judging you, for calling you a murd—"

His fingers threaded into her hair and encased the back of her skull, tenderly. "Shh. It's okay. I was never angry at you."

It was that simple, and she loved him for it.

He stroked her spine with the tips of his fingers, making her shiver whenever he would reach a ticklish spot. However, the bliss was short-lived, and the horror of what she had done came back to her.

 _God!_ What she had done to Harry and Ron! What they had seen! A feeling of dread sat in the pit of her stomach as she wondered what they must think of her now. Reality came crashing down around her and she was only now beginning to understand the implications. Life was truly different. There were too many things that would change and she had taken them for granted. Tears formed in her eyes.

She propped herself up on her elbows and said with a trembling voice, "Draco, I'm… I'm a monster."

He put an arm behind his head and studied her thoughtfully, contemplating what to say next.

After a pause, he said, "Yes, you are." She bit her lip and stifled a sob. He reached up and tenderly wiped away the lone tear making its way down her cheek.

In a voice much softer, he continued, "And so am I."

She looked at him again, studying the caring expression on his face, searching his eyes that shone and glittered in the moonlight. He rested his hand on her upper arm and gave it a quick squeeze.

"The sooner you accept what you are, the easier this existence will be for you. Next time, we'll silver ourselves sooner." His voice sounded more positive than she felt. "That actually worked much better than I thought it would."

She looked down at Draco and furrowed her brow. "Why didn't _you_ have trouble controlling yourself tonight, like when you lost around me?"

"Firstly, I fed. From a human." She rolled off of him and sat on the cool grass, reluctantly accepting the truth of what he was telling her. She hugged her knees and hiccupped a sob, finally crying in earnest. She wouldn't be able to be around anyone anymore. Not her family, not her friends—

"Hermione," Draco said softly, interrupting her thoughts, "I'm sorry. I know you don't want to hear it, but animals aren't enough. And secondly," he traced her spine again with his fingers and she shivered, "you're different. I've always wanted you."

"But I don't—," she sniffed,"—I don't _want_ Harry and Ron like that. I don't want…"

Draco smiled; her words inflated his ego.

"You're pulled more to a male's blood than a female's. To a young person's than an old person's. Although…" his eyes darkened, "the thought of you taking a female…" Her head snapped around to look at him and he smiled wolfishly up at her.

Her voice lowered. "Will it always be this way?"

Draco's eyes traveled over her face, and his smile fell. "For the time that it’s relevant, yes."

She released a trembling sigh, afraid she would start to cry again. Draco lifted his hand to stroke her jaw and said, "You'll get better at controlling it, but only in the sense that you'll begin to understand yourself. The danger tonight was that you underestimated your hunger. You didn't think you would hurt them." His hand fell limply to the ground to caress her buttocks. "That's what I kept telling myself when you were brought to me. I should have known better."

She sighed and looked up at the night sky. She wasn't going to kill someone just so that she could be around Harry and Ron. And she wouldn't let Draco do it either. Her tears trickled down, landing in soft plops on the skin of her thighs and rolling down to the grass. She didn’t know how he was able to live this way. Draco's fingers caressed the skin of her back, up and down, from her rear toher thighs and arms, wherever he could reach.

"But Slughorn had a vampire at that Christmas party," she protested weakly.

Draco turned onto his side to face her. "How old was he?"

She looked down at the grass between her toes, dejected, as she knew what the answer must be. "I don't know," she admitted softly.

"Around a hundred years. That's when we'll develop enough control to be around humans without much danger, in the best-case scenario. We’ll even be able to feed off of them without killing them. In the meantime, we can rely on silver to some extent." His smirk returned. "And I thought that _I_ had trouble controlling myself."

She raised an eyebrow and gave him a side glance. "You say that like it's a good thing."

"You were fucking hot."

He was trying to cheer her up, but she stayed still, listening to the crickets all around them. They sat in silence for a while, when she realized that something else had been nagging at her.

"Draco?" she asked, wiping away the last of her tears.

"Hmm?"

"Don't you think this is… unnatural? Having all this power?"

"What do you mean?"

"It's almost absurd; there's nothing to balance it. Imagine if someone like Voldemort were to become a vampire. What could we do?"

He was silent for a few moments before continuing, "I thought about that. I think that's why we've never heard of wizard vampires, and just assume that they lose their magic. Who knows? They might have propagated that myth themselves."

Hermione looked at him and said with a voice still broken from crying, "They're too powerful, and they know it, so they stay hidden. They don't want anyone to know."

Draco seemed to be formulating another thought. "I also think that people would try and hunt them down from fear alone."

"Wouldn't it be incredibly difficult to find and kill one?"

"Yeeeeees…" he said slowly, "and no. A simple sunlight projection and it's over. Even a blind first year could do it."

"But we move so fast, we'd see it coming long before it happened."

"Not necessarily. And we’d have to get far away, out of reach of the spell. Even if it was night. What if someone found where you were resting during the day?"

"I guess you'd have to change your resting spot often to prevent that from happening."

He looked up at the moon. "Or go somewhere nobody else can."

She looked up at the cratered sphere glowing brightly in the night. They would be alone from now on. Like the moon. Isolated. She chuckled mirthlessly and replied, "Muggles have been there."

Draco didn't answer for a few seconds, and then said, "You're yanking my wand."

"I yanked your wand yesterday."

He barked a laugh and said, "And you yank very well."

She smiled ruefully, still feeling despondent. "The Americans landed on the moon in 1969. There’s been more lunar missions since then. Now there’s talk of a manned mission to Mars. Unmanned missions have already reached the edge of our solar system."

The pause was longer this time while Draco digested the information. “Without magic,” he clarified to out loud, unnecessarily. "That’s… there's…” he cleared his throat. “There’s quite a lot they don't tell us."

"There is," she paused, her voice lilting slightly. "But you have forever to learn it."

Draco chuckled and then asked rhetorically, "Who wants to live forever?"*

Hermione turned to him, astonished. "But… think of all the places we could go!" She started to feel excitement creeping along the edges of her sadness as she thought of the potential that vampirism gave her, and continued, "All of the knowledge out there! All the… all the things we could do! We could watch the world grow and… and change! And evolve!"

Without missing a beat, he said, "And then what?"

She opened her mouth to reply, but had none. He had already contemplated his immortality. She had only begun to realize the impact of hers. "Do you think you would get bored of existing?" Hermione couldn't imagine ever getting bored of learning.

He snaked his arm around her waist and drew her down to him again. "Not if I was with you."

She allowed herself to be pulled down and snuggled into him, feeling the cool grass on her back and the warmth of his torso and arm next to her. "So you'd off yourself if you were alone?"

"After a time. It's not really… much of a life without the people you love. And I already miss the sunrise."

She chewed on her lip, thinking. Draco had already lost everyone that he loved. Without her, he was truly alone.

"I guess you do have a point. After some time, you'd want to move on." But she couldn't imagine herself ever getting to a stage where she would be tired of learning and exploring. To her, the world was infinite, and she wasn't even limited to earth. Who knew what she could do with her immortality or her increased power? The possibilities seemed endless.

They lay in silence for a while longer.

"Do you…” Draco's voice caught in his throat, “regret your decision?"

Hermione stroked his chest, and lifted her head to look him in the eyes. He was worried. "Draco, with the two of us, the Order will be able to win this war within the week. The power we have… we can do just about anything!"

He was lazily caressing the skin of her posterior and lower back. "But we can't control ourselves, you won't be able to be with your friends like before, and you're avoiding my question." His serious tone contrasted with the almost apathetic designs his fingers were making on her backside.

Hermione exhaled, her breath of air ruffling his fringe. She tried to keep her voice even, afraid that thoughts of Harry and Ron would make her cry again. "I misjudged what it would mean to be a vampire. I didn't take your warnings seriously enough." His hand crept up to her hair and threaded into her curls. She felt him apply a slight pressure, guiding her head down so that she lay in the crook of his shoulder. She nestled into him and sighed.

"But it had to be done. It had to…" She had made the right decision, hadn't she? It was worth it. They were going to win. Of course it was the right decision. It was.

His fingers started to rub her scalp, lightly massaging it. Her eyes closed. Her heart ached, and she felt slightly hollow inside. However, knowing that Draco was here with her trying to soothe that ache allowed her to relax against him. She felt something that wasn't quite contentment, but it was pretty close.

"And now I have you," she whispered.

His body tensed and she saw his mouth form a wicked smile as his hand crept towards her juncture. "You can have me again."

His fingers teased her lightly and she gasped and squirmed and writhed against him until she felt herself getting wet.

"Yes, I guess there are certain advantages to being…uuuh!" Desire made her skin hot and her fangs extend.

Draco propped himself up on his side to watch her. His hair had fallen forward, his fringe half-hiding his gleaming eyes. The corners of his mouth twitched. "Certain advantages to… what?" He inserted a long finger into her slick warmth and she bucked, entirely forgetting what she'd wanted to say.

"Want you in me," she panted. She reached up to grab his shoulders, to bring him down to her, to be covered in his strong, warm body, but he only smiled wider as he captured her wrists with his hand and pinned her arms to the ground above her head.

"In me!" she commanded breathlessly, struggling to move and enjoying his game.

"Patience," he said teasingly. "I like to watch you."

Her body was cold, covered with goosebumps from the lack of his touch that she so desperately needed; but her core was hot and pulsing. All of the pleasure she felt was concentrated there, contrasting with the rest of her body, which had nothing. When he beckoned inside her passage with his middle finger, she tried to buck her hips as her orgasm approached, but he wouldn't let her. Instead, he pinned her legs down by crawling over her, pressing his knees into her thighs and restricting her movement even more.

He played with her, stroked her, and teased her. He made her feel sensations without her being able to react so as to temper the feeling. She couldn't ease the tension by swiveling her hips or maneuvering his finger to a different spot when certain areas became too sensitive. It was unbearable and she growled her frustration.

"Ready?" His smile became lecherous as he leered over her.

"Yessss," she hissed back at him.

He stroked her, long and slow and hard. She tilted her head back, balled her hands into fists and pointed her toes.

He paused.

"Uuuuuggggh!" she moaned in desperation.

Flashing his fangs at her, he stroked again, forcing another guttural moan from her mouth as her climax ripped through her body. Finally, he released her and she bucked her hips while he continued to play with her sensitive nub. She sat up, grabbed the arm that was pleasuring her and growled at him. His eyes took in the expression of primal desire on her face and he smiled with his lips slightly parted.

"I love you like this," he whispered.

She tackled him, capturing him in an embrace and hitting the ground. They rolled on the grass with their limbs entwined and he tangled his hands in her hair, bringing her down on top of him for a searing kiss. Their tongues battled and their fangs cut each other. She tasted his blood and wanted more. He must have felt the same compulsion because he suddenly snarled and flipped her over onto her back. She hit her head on the ground and he made to thrust into her before she knocked him over again. They wrestled, grabbing at each other's limbs and panting with the exertion of trying to make the other submit.

He flipped her onto her hands and knees, but she grunted and clawed at the ground until she had got herself out from under him. She was just about to turn around when she felt his hand on her leg and he pulled her back while she dragged handfuls of dirt with her. He pinned her down from behind, pressing his body into her and scraping the line of her neck and shoulder with his fangs, drawing blood. She felt hot and sweaty as the muscles of his chest and torso slid back and forth over her shoulder blades, back and buttocks. His hands roughly cupped her breasts and squeezed while she yelled. He growled into her ear and she hissed as he rubbed his prick into the crack of her arse. She pushed backwards, wanting nothing more than for him to take her, but he pinched her nipple hard and rubbed her arse, making her insides clench with want. She needed to be filled and he was still _teasing her!_

With a shriek of frustration she kicked back and he lost his balance. She rolled them over and straddled him, finally pinning him down and digging her nails into his arms. Hair wild, eyes gleaming, fangs extended, she lifted herself up and sank down onto him. He groaned with pleasure as she began to gyrate on top of him, and watched her undulate. Her eyes were glowing with desire, and she licked the length of her fang, basking in the heat of his gaze.

"Bite me," he said, his voice no more than a husky growl.

Wanting to do just that, she smiled, leaned down, and sank her teeth into the flesh of his neck. He half-laughed, half-moaned, and slid his hands up the sides of her thighs to move her hips back and forth along his member. As she sucked his life force and swallowed, her eyes popped open in surprise. When she had fed from him the first time it was during her transformation.

This time, it was different. It was _him_. She could feel him as she fed. He was inside her; he was all around her. She was completely encased by him and by his presence. She could feel what he was feeling, and it was unlike anything she had ever experienced before. She was overwhelmed from the coupling of his love and desire for her with what she felt for him.

_Oooooooh God!_

Her eyes rolled back and she felt her body become limp. She dug her fingers into his upper arms and tried to hold on. Drinking from him felt _good._ She shuddered, and Draco lifted her pelvis and maneuvered her hips, straining to reach every inch inside her while she lost herself in the pleasure of being filled by him, by his blood, and by his essence. It wasn't satisfying a need in the way that feeding from Ron and Harry would have, but it was intimate and sexual. He was giving a piece of himself to her. He was sharing himself with her, and she loved him even more.

All she needed, all she had wanted was to get as much of him inside her as she could, and when she did, she slid up and down his cock, riding him with violent abandon. She wanted to devour him, and was reveling in the feel of the planes and hardness of his body, the touch of his skin, the sound of his pleasure.

With a shuddering gasp, she extracted her fangs from his neck. Leaning back to an upright position, she felt the warm liquid dribble from her mouth, and licked it with her tongue. Draco's eyes lowered, watching the movement, entranced by her and what she was making him feel. She wanted to give him the same gift. She wanted to give him a piece of herself, to be inside him, to surround him. She couldn't _ever_ remember feeling so unhinged and free, and yet so connected with another.

"Take from me," she whimpered. "Please."

"I will," he growled.

Swiftly, he sat up, clutching her to his chest. His gaze shifted from her eyes to the juncture of her neck and shoulder again. A half grin slowly spread across his mouth and he pressed his palm to her chest and collarbone, gently but firmly pushing her backwards. She leaned her head back, letting her hair dangle, and allowed herself to be supported by the hand he had placed in the center of her spine. She tightened the grip of her legs around his body and her arms on his shoulders to give herself more support. He pushed her chest towards him and shifted slightly underneath her.

Suddenly, he snarled and struck.

Warmth, wetness, pain, and pleasure, all at once encompassed her left breast and she _howled_. His fangs pierced her there, and his tongue laved her nipple while he suckled her. Sharp, sudden, and concentrated, desire shot through her body and she shrieked again while he drank from her there.

She writhed and slid on his length while his fingers dug into her back. Her hands threaded into his hair and she clung to his head while she moaned, trying to bring him closer so that he would devour her whole. He grabbed her hip roughly to control her movements, and she allowed him to mold her to his pelvis as he needed her. With each draw of her blood, she felt pleasure and pain, welcoming them both and wanting more. She wanted him inside her. _She_ wanted to be inside _him_. Bit by bit, she felt the lines of their conscious blur, as if they were becoming one. She could no longer tell where she ended and he began. The love and desire that coursed through her was what she felt for him, and what he felt for her. The intensity of the sensation burnt through her like a flame through paper.

She felt his movements become more forceful, more erratic and her body was jarred from the impact of his penetration each time he sank into her. The hand on her collarbone slid up towards her neck and squeezed slightly, pulling her upright. Draco released her breast with a groan and a shudder before burying his face into her chest, smearing it with the blood on his mouth. Draco turned his head to look up at her, eyes wide with awe, mouth open in wonderment. Time seemed to stand still, and all was quiet.

Suddenly, her orgasm, _his_ orgasm, burst through her like a volcano. She cried out and sobbed and clung to him as stars exploded in front of her eyes. They rocked backwards and forwards, crying together, digging their fingers into each other's flesh. They shuddered and trembled in each other's arms until they could no longer remain upright and fell over onto their sides, still intimately joined while they rode out the ecstatic rush. Their bodies shook as the last of their feverish climax ebbed. Slowly, slowly, they could finally climb down from their heights, remaining a panting jumble of limbs slick with blood, dirt, sweat, tears, fluid and semen.

_Breathe._

_Breathe._

_Breathe._

She studied his eyes, which were glassy with tears and vibrant with amazement. His lips were red with her blood, his skin slick with sweat, and his face radiant in his contentment. He looked absolutely…

"Beautiful," he whispered, brushing a lock of hair out of her face.

_Gods._

"You can do that to me forever," she said, still panting, "if you like."*

"All right, then," he said as a roguish grin appeared on his face. "I will."

She breathed evenly for a few more seconds and then asked, "Did you know it would be like that?"

Wordlessly, he shook his head, looking at her as if she were the only thing that mattered in the world. And to him, she was.

Still smiling and catching their breath, the two lay down on the ground, limbs carelessly entwined, and gazed up at the stars. Their contented growling blended in with the chirping crickets.

She traced patterns on his chest, and then caught his fingers, running the pad of her thumb over the bumps of his knuckles. She could stay like this forever with him. She could… she could.

"Draco?"

"Mmm?"

"Thank you for helping me through this."

He brought her in close and kissed her tenderly on the forehead.

"Anything."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Taken from the cheesetastic Highlander. (The first and only one worth watching. There can be only one, as the saying goes…)


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Back at number twelve Grimmauld Place, Ron and Harry were sitting across from one another at the kitchen table during breakfast, both ensconced in their own thoughts. Neither had slept, and neither had said anything since their encounter with Hermione and Draco last night. The two turned at the sound of footsteps descending the stairs, and Lupin appeared in the doorway, looking a bit worse for the wear from the full moon than they did.

"Morning," Lupin said, grabbing a scone out of the basket and leaning against the wall.

Harry grunted a response and returned to staring at the table.

Lupin gave a rueful smile, noting the dark bags under their eyes and the passably healed wounds on each of their necks. "So the meeting went well, did it?"

Harry looked up and met Ron's eyes. Embarrassed, they averted their eyes at the same time.

Clearing his throat, Harry spoke first. "She said we can attack their stronghold and defeat him with minimal casualties."

Lupin, who was about to take a bite of his scone, froze.

"Tomorrow, or whenever we can get everyone ready," Ron added.

" _Hermione_ said this?" Lupin asked incredulously.

Ron nodded wordlessly.

"What about the wards?"

Harry was digging his nail into a scratch on the table. "She said they weren't a problem."

"And your mission…?"

Harry and Ron both looked up. "They finished it," Ron said, still in disbelief.

"Gringotts?" Lupin's eyebrows rose in question.

"Mmm-hmm," was Harry's grudging answer.

Lupin's voice turned soft. "They're that powerful, are they?"

"Incredibly," Ron said sullenly.

Lupin was scratching his stubble in thought. "That's just… I'll have to speak with her first, but there's still the moon… Harry, how are you contacting her?"

"We could use a Patronus for short messages or an owl," he said.

"Assuming she doesn't eat it," Ron added testily.

Lupin looked at his two previous students and slowly sat down. "So," he asked cautiously, "what do you think of vampires?"

Exhausted, Harry rubbed his face. "Professor, she…" He couldn't quite form the words, as he would have to admit what had actually happened. Shaking his head, he attempted to clear his mind of the images. "She tried to drain us. And she…" he flushed, and bile rose to his throat at the memory of her hand on his prick, and Malfoy fucking her.

Lupin gave him a dark look. "Good thing you practiced that binding spell. I warned you not to underestimate her."

"But it's Hermione!" Ron blurted out. Harry noticed that he didn't mention their failure to bind her.

Lupin shifted his eyes to Ron and asked, "Why do I take the Wolfsbane potion every month?"

Harry let out an exasperated sigh. "It's not the same thing!"

"Oh, but it is, Harry." Lupin said with narrowed eyes. "Make no mistake. My trigger is the full moon. Her triggers are a combination of blood, excitement, and other stimuli. The results are the same— a ruthless predator. I'm sure the presence of two healthy young men tested the limits of her control."

Harry and Ron met each other’s eyes again and they shifted uncomfortably in their seats.

After a pause, Ron said, "We won't be together anymore like we were." His voice cracked. "Will we?"

Lupin sighed and gave Harry and Ron a sympathetic look. "I think not. She's better off living away from humans." At this, Ron's face went white. "It's not as if you'll never see her again; but you have to be on your guard and realize what she's capable of."

Harry looked up at Ron. "I still can't believe that she… it really was a sacrifice, wasn't it?"

"It was," Lupin nodded slowly. "But it sounds as if it was worth it."

"Worth it?" Harry glared at him. "How can you be so cavalier?"

"Harry, believe me, I'm not. I understand. Much as I am ostracized by society, it won't compare to the isolation that she'll have to live in. But if we don't defeat Voldemort, none of us will be alive to partake in these philosophical discussions." He tapped his fingers on the table excitedly. "And it sounds like that is actually going to happen."

Harry sighed. "It just might…" For a few minutes, nobody spoke. He couldn't drum up any excitement over Voldemort's impending defeat. Not when he was losing Hermione. Losing her to… He ran both of his hands roughly through his hair. He couldn't stop thinking of the way she screamed and clawed at Malfoy’s back as he thrust into her.

"What did she do, Harry?" Lupin's eyes pierced his.

He sighed. It was better that Lupin knew everything. "Professor, we were stupid," Harry admitted. "And I think we'd be dead if Malfoy hadn't—" He felt his throat go dry and swallowed. "Hadn't been there to stop her."

Ron looked up, horrified, as Harry had just said precisely what he didn't want to come to terms with.

A sardonic grin appeared on Lupin's face. "Good thing we've got Malfoy around, then."

Ron clenched his fist. "Sodding, manky, cunt-faced, dodgy, pikey, mother-fucking, grotty, cocked-up—."

"Ron, please," Lupin interrupted.

Ron was fuming and continued angrily. "God _fucking_ dammit! He… he _did_ that to her! And now she…" Harry watched Ron's ears turn bright pink. His eyes were full of hatred. "He bloody well did this on purpose."

Harry rested his forehead in his palms, trying to come to grips with everything, and spoke to the table. "Hermione did this to _herself_. She wanted to give us a weapon. If we don't use it, everything she did will have been for nothing."

Ron glared at Harry wordlessly.

Lupin nodded. "Exactly. So, what did she have in mind?"

Both remained silent. Ron looked like he was ready to break the kitchen table in two with the force of his stare. Harry sighed again; Ron was too upset to talk rationally.

"We didn't get that far. Hermione was explaining how she got into Gringotts and I tried the binding spell on Malfoy." Harry ran a hand through his hair, unwittingly making it stick up more. "Honestly, I think that's what pushed her over the edge."

Lupin looked between Harry and Ron, who was still sulking angrily. "Neither one of you bound her?"

Harry had hoped to avoid that question, but turned to face Lupin. "At first, I didn't want to hurt her if I could help it. Malfoy really looked like he was in pain. But then… it was… I just…"

Harry looked to Ron for help, but he was still staring angrily at the table. "I couldn't believe that she would hurt either of us, even while she was feeding from Ron. And when she bit me," He felt his cock twitch at the memory of her body against his and he looked down, ashamed. He clenched his hand and continued in a gruff voice. "I didn't want her to stop."

He exhaled, trying to collect himself, and yet felt relieved to confide his failure in someone. "But when Malfoy pulled her away," he shuddered and looked back up to Lupin, who was studying him. "Professor, she was like an animal. There was nothing human of her left. I…" His voice cracked. "I don't ever want to see her like that again."

Lupin stood up. "Listen to me well—both of you. This is who she is now. You need to accept that and keep in mind what our immediate goals are. When the war is over, we'll have time to devote to other pursuits and possibly figure out a way to help her interact with society more. In the meantime, it's exactly like you said Harry; we need to use the weapon she's given us. Understand?"

Harry felt like he had lost a part of himself. It was almost as bad as when they had found Ginny's dead body.

"Understand?" Lupin repeated.

Harry nodded, as did Ron.

"Speaking of which," Lupin continued, "we need to set up another meeting with her to discuss strategy. Bill, Dora and I should be there as well. Then we can—"

"Do we really have to bind her with silver?" Ron interrupted angrily.

Lupin flattened his mouth into a line. "Yes, I'm afraid that's the only—"

Ron interrupted again. "Malfoy said it was almost as bad as the Cruciatus. Isn't there some way we could make it easier on her? Maybe we could give her more time before she..." He looked to the side and swore. "What if we were to bring garlic?"

Lupin looked surprised, almost as if he were going to laugh. Ron cursed and got up from the table sending his chair skidding across the floor.

Lupin held out his hand in an effort to placate him. "Wait, Ron. I think you just might be onto something."

Ron turned around and Harry sat up straighter in his seat.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"Hold on, Harry."

Tonks touched his collar with her wand and extended it to a turtleneck. She patted him on the back. "Very 'Flourish and Blotts.'"

The turtleneck was a bit too tight around his neck, and Harry inserted his finger underneath the material, pulling on it slightly. He lined up with Tonks, Bill, and Ron to face Lupin. Everyone was in a good mood; they were going to see Hermione, and they felt better prepared to deal with her. Not only that, but they were going to plan out a strategy to end this war.

Lupin raised his wand, pointed it at Ron's chest and pronounced, " _Silencio Cor_!" Next, he waved his wand over Ron's body. _"Silencio Sangre!"_

Ron squeezed his eyes shut as if he expected it to hurt, and when nothing happened, he opened one eye, followed by the other. Lupin went on performing the silencing spells on everyone else.

"I don't feel any different," Ron said, looking down at his body.

Bill adjusted his turtleneck and donned a shapeless wizarding robe. "There's no reason you should."

Ron cupped his hands around his ears. "Weird," he said, after a few minutes.

"What?" Bill asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Nothing," Ron answered with a grin on his face, still cupping his ears.

"Mum always said you were the 'special' one."

Harry and Tonks sniggered.

Ron scowled. "No, really! Usually, it sounds like the ocean, but now… Nothing. Try it."

The other three cupped their hands over their ears, staring at nothing in particular.

Lupin was giving them all a very odd look, and he cleared his throat. The four looked at him, and then brought their hands down awkwardly.

"Alright then," Lupin said with an amused smile. "On to the next round." He pointed his wand at Harry, who was fastening a set of bulky wizarding robes.

" _Turgeo odoro!_ "

After Harry, he performed the spell on Tonks, and then on Bill and Ron before pointing his wand on himself.

Ron leaned over and sniffed Bill. "Ah… now the air smells nice again. You know when you smell something bad for so long you just don't notice—hey! Ow!"

Bill smacked Ron upside the head.

Tonks stood in front of Harry with her pinky extended. She dabbed him behind the left ear, dipped her pinky in a vial full of yellowish liquid, and dabbed him behind the right ear. The smell reminded him of Italian restaurants. She went on dabbing everyone else behind the ears.

Lupin was appraising everyone. "Alright. We took care of sight, smell and hearing. There's not much we can do about touch and taste, but even so, I think that we've bought ourselves much more time with her." He glanced over at Ron. "Good thinking."

Ron grinned.

"Alright, you've all practiced the binding spell, let's hope it won't come to that." Lupin led them out the door. They looked around, making sure the road was deserted before Apparating.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Harry staggered a bit after landing in the field, and Tonks caught his elbow, steering him to an upright position.

"Thanks."

"Yep."

"Hey." Hermione's voice was soft and apologetic.

They all turned around to see her and Malfoy standing several feet away from them, dressed in black. Malfoy tilted his head, a puzzled look on his face at the stench of garlic. Slowly, a half grin spread and he gave Harry an approving nod. Harry thought Ron deserved the credit since it was his idea and he pointed in Ron's direction. Malfoy responded with a look of disbelief.

Hermione took a deep breath and looked between Harry and Ron. "Harry, Ron, before you bind me, I just wanted to apologize." Her voice started to tremble and Harry felt his heart go out to her. Malfoy put a supportive arm around her, which didn't go unnoticed by Ron, who glared daggers at him. "I never meant to hurt either of you! I just didn't think… Oh, I'm so sorry! Draco tried to warn me but I—"

She abruptly stopped talking and crinkled her nose. "I… What's that… Oh my _god!_ That's disgusting! Did we Apparate next to a corpse?"

Draco covered his mouth and nose with his hand. She started looking around for the source of the smell. Harry couldn't keep the grin from his face. He nudged Ron, who was also smiling, with his elbow.

This was going to work.

She covered her mouth and nose with her hand and looked questioningly at everyone else. "You don't smell it? It's… it's…" She leaned slightly in their direction and then immediately recoiled. "It's coming from you!" Harry watched her lip curl in disgust, but she met his eyes, saw his grin, saw Ron's grin, and her hand dropped from her mouth.

"You… you did this. And the way you're dressed… and I can't hear your… your…" Harry saw a smile spread on her face. "You all did this for me." She went to run and hug them, but Draco pulled her back; she looked happy, but her eyes were tearful. Harry looked at Ron, who to his credit said nothing, and silently clenched his jaw.

She turned towards them; her eyes still gleaming with unshed tears. "Thank you."

"I think that it's us who need to be thanking you, Hermione," Lupin said.

They all nodded and murmured their agreement.

"This wouldn't be happening if it weren't for you," Lupin continued. "Now, I don't know how much time we have here. Is there any way to estimate how long before…" His voice trailed off and he looked between Draco and Hermione.

Hermione looked up at Draco who shook his head to the negative.

"So why don't we get started?" Harry said. "Hermione? This is your game."

She nodded and pretended to scratch her nose as she wiped a stray tear away. Harry grinned. Some things were still the same.

Straightening herself, she smoothed her shirt and addressed them in her lecturing tone. "Alright. This is how it's going to play out. Draco and I will go into the fortress first, clear out as much as we can and signal when we think they're alerted to our presence. We're extremely fast and won't need much time to act, assuming we don't…" she flushed, and continued.

"In any case, the most important thing, and I can't stress this enough—" She gave another apologetic look to Ron and Harry. "—is to stay away from us. With all the fighting, and the excitement, the adrenaline, the…" she said, shuddering. "Even if we feed beforehand, it might be too much. Especially if there's bloodshed." She closed her eyes briefly, the mere mention of it affecting her.

Malfoy's brows knitted in worry. They waited patiently while she composed herself. After a few more seconds, she opened her eyes and continued. "If you see us in a room, you have to leave right away. Be prepared to bind us. And that bit of spellwork that you did tonight was brilliant. Do it on everyone." She looked to Malfoy.

"Draco? Can you—? Thanks."

Malfoy conjured a several large pieces of parchment, rolled them up and levitated them over to the Order members. Tonks grabbed hers out of the air and unrolled it, and everyone else, followed suit with muted gasps. Harry fingered the edge, mouth slightly open. Even Ron looked reluctantly impressed. It was a blueprint of the fortress, replete with the lines of the protective wards, and labeled areas where magic was used to fortify or entrap.

"Now, _we_ won't go through the entrances," Hermione continued as flashes of red indicated where she was talking about on the map. "It will ensure that we exploit the element of surprise to the fullest extent. And when they do find out that there are intruders, they'll pull guards away from all the entrances and exits to fight internally, thus making it easier for you to come in. Another thing I've thought of…"

Harry looked curiously at the expression of admiration and tenderness on Malfoy's face, and realized with a shock that Malfoy loved her. He knew that there was more to their relationship than met the eye, especially given Hermione's changed Patronus. But he didn't know how much of it was due to the fact that they were vampires and needed to... he pushed away the memory of Draco pinning Hermione to the ground. Maybe having Malfoy around wasn't such a bad thing. At least Hermione's feelings for him weren't one-sided. In the end, if it weren't for Malfoy, she would be alone most of the time. Wouldn't she?

As if sensing that Harry had been watching him, Malfoy looked up and sneered.

_Sodding ponce._

"…shifts in guard duty, and that's when Draco and I will start attacking. And then we—yes, Bill?"

"The wards, you said that you can take them down." She nodded and he continued. "How long will it take you?"

"Seconds."

Lupin was shaking his head and muttering to himself. Harry thought he'd heard him say "unbelievable."

"Draco's done it before," Hermione said. Apparently, she had heard him, too.

After a bit of silence, she opened her mouth to speak again before Tonks interrupted her. "Instead of taking them down, can you… alter the wards?"

At this, Hermione looked to Draco, who shrugged and nodded to the affirmative. Tonks peered at him in thought.

"Can you change them so that we can all enter, but no one can leave? No Apparition, no Portkeys, no Floo, nothing."

Harry felt an adrenaline rush.

Ron protested, "What if someone—?"

Harry turned to him. "We're going to win Ron. And we don't want to be hunting down rogue Death Eaters years from now."

Tonks gave him a half smile and nodded. "Something like that. Trap them in."

Harry looked down to see different flashes of color appear on the map. Hermione's voice rang out, confident and strong. She was completely in her element.

"Now these are the paths that I want the Order to take. They are the most efficient way to sweep the castle, which we'll do in two stages. The second stage will be to catch any that might have doubled back. I agree, I don't want anybody escaping to fight another day. Two-thirds of our force will be in the first stage; we won't need as many for the second.” She continued to explain how the various traps and fortifications could be disabled or used to their advantage when her voice rose. “Harry, pay attention."

He sat up straighter.

"This is where Voldemort is most likely will be when the raid will force him to fall back and consolidate his remaining fighters." Harry looked up to see Malfoy flinch at the name, as he knew he would. He smiled at Malfoy's discomfort. "You…" she paused, and he met her eyes. They were full of concern. "You know what you have to do."

He knew what he'd have to do since seventh year.

While Bill, Tonks and Lupin fired a series of questions at her, making suggestions and changing plans. Ron caught his eye and nodded. It was good to know that there were people who would have his back until the end. Harry looked up at Hermione, deep in discussion with Tonks, when suddenly she tensed.

Malfoy put his hand protectively on the back of her neck and she looked up at him, a worried expression on her face. He nodded and murmured something to her, too quiet for them to hear.

"I… I'm sorry. In spite of everything you've done, you're all starting to look fairly delicious and I think that I…" She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, scrunching up her face in disgust over the garlicky smell. "Yes, I think I should go. Draco can finish answering your questions. We planned for this, I'll just—"

"Hermione," Harry called out, and she turned to him. "This is brilliant. We all owe you."

Somehow he knew, he just _knew_ that everything was going to work out. It felt right. It was unfortunate that they couldn't be around her that long, but this was almost like a normal meeting with the Order. Almost.

"Oh, Harry, I've missed you all so much and I… I…oh!" A look of sheer panic crossed her features right before her fangs extended. Draco stepped over to her and she hissed at him, backing up defensively. He lunged at her, encircled her upper arms with his hands, and Disapparated the both of them with a pop.

Harry turned to Ron. "Well, that went much better than last time."

Ron looked physically ill at the memory. "I _don't_ want to hear it."

Harry was about to ask him what he thought about Hermione's plans when Malfoy immediately reappeared.

"Where is she?" Harry asked.

"About a half dozen miles that way," he said, motioning with his head. "There were a few deer…"

Harry saw Ron sneer out of the corner of his eye and there was an uncomfortable silence as the unbidden image of Hermione elbow deep in deer blood came to them.

Malfoy scanned them briefly and said, "Well, if that's all…"

Bill cut him off, motioning to the parchment in his hand. "This isn’t Hermione’s writing. Did you make this map?"

Malfoy narrowed his eyes, and after deciding there was no ulterior motive in the question, he nodded.

Bill continued, "It's quite detailed, we shouldn’t have any trouble using the magic and traps put in place to our advantage."

Tonks was leaning over the map, tracing her finger along one of the lines. "Nice work, cousin."

Malfoy didn't reply, but Harry thought he saw a fleeting smile.

Ron spoke up harshly. "What day?"

Malfoy shifted his eyes to Ron. "What's that?"

Ron ground his words out as though speaking to Malfoy was causing him acute pain. "What. Day. She didn't say which day she wanted us to attack."

Malfoy sneered right back. "As soon as you can gather everyone and coordinate. That would require some communicative and organizational skills. Not exactly your forte, Weasley."

Bill snorted. Ron opened his mouth to retort when Malfoy interrupted him.

"One more thing."

Ron glared at him.

"You have to _Obliviate_ everyone after the attack is done."

 _What?_ Harry snapped his head up, and Malfoy continued. "Everyone in the Order, and everyone left alive. No one can know about wizard vampires, they have to continue thinking we lose our magic."

"Why's that?" Tonks asked. Lupin and Bill were looking at him warily.

"We're too powerful. You're most likely going to be outnumbered four to one in this attack, but because of our speed and strength, you'll have the advantage. Imagine if the Dark Lord were a vampire. What if he had wizard vampires working with him? If you don't _Obliviate_ everyone, you'll kill _this_ Dark Lord, and another will appear, finding power and immortality much more easily than this one did."

Harry listened to Malfoy with his mouth slightly open. He hadn't thought of that. It was an excellent point. "You're right."

Malfoy nodded to him in acknowledgment. He saw the reluctant acceptance on the faces of Lupin, Tonks and Bill, but Malfoy's assertions were making Ron even angrier.

"That's ridiculous! How can we possibly _Obliviate_ that many—"

"They would hunt her down, Weasley. Find a way."

Ron stopped mid-sentence and clamped his mouth shut.

"She'll be famous after this, a symbol. Everyone will know who and what she is. You don't need some nutcase on a mission trying to track her down. And you don’t need another Dark Lord."

Ron's jaw clicked. "Fine," he said belligerently.

For once, they were in agreement.

"Much as I'd love to stick around," Malfoy said, giving them a look that told them that he would love to do anything _but_. "I'm hungry."

With a final smirk, he Disapparated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final battle coming up next!


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

"One day more."

"Mmm, hmm."

"Are you nervous?"

"No… not really. We've been at this for so long. You?

"I… yes, actually…"

Hermione turned to him. "Really?"

"Since my Mum died, I didn't have anything to lose. I didn't care much about what happened to me or anyone else. Now…" He wrapped his fingers around hers, and squeezed, "things are different."

She turned his face so that he was facing her and gently pressed her lips to his in a chaste kiss. Their noses touched, and she could feel his breath tickling the skin around her mouth. He smiled and stroked her cheek with his finger.

Hermione looked up curiously at him, and bit her lip.

"What?" Draco said as he smiled down at her.

"Nothing."

He tugged on one of her curls. "I know you. You were going to say something."

She looked out at the earth, took a deep breath, and then turned back to him. "Draco, when did you- I was just curious- when did you stop thinking of me as a Mudblood?"

His eyes opened in surprise. "Oh," he said, and then gave an embarrassed smile. "When you slapped me."

"Sixth year?" Hermione asked. That didn't make sense.

"No." He barked a laugh. "Third."

She raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Really?"

Draco chuckled at her bewilderment. "It's easier to dismiss someone as unequal if you don't interact with them, don't look at them, don't have an actual conversation with them. They remain inconsequential, and… it's easier to believe they're not really a person."

She smirked. "So I slapped some sense into you?"

"Something like that," he said as he grinned at her. "Though it wasn't just the slap. You got my attention, and then… I saw the look in your eyes. You were fierce and angry… and you were looking _right at me_."

"Go on." Hermione stroked the muscles of his arm and waited for him to continue.

"It was as if you..." He exhaled in thought. "Well, you forced me to come to grips with the fact that you were _you_ … just like I am myself. At that moment when you looked at me, I realized…" he gave her an apologetic half grin, "that you were a person. And if you were a person, then all Muggle-borns must be as well." He paused and then asked, "Does that make any sense?" She nodded. "And then later on…" His voice trailed off. He looked pensive, trying to determine if he should continue or not.

"Go on," Hermione urged him again. "Not only is this fascinating, but I’m quite enjoying all of the thought and agonizing your schoolboy-self directed towards me."

Draco laughed lightly. "I was going to say that it wasn't until later that I started to think of you as… more than some annoying little swot. I mean… you were _really_ irritating, Granger."

"Oh," she said, not sure how to react to this bit of information.

"Not anymore, you've changed a bit since those days." He kissed the top of her head and she smiled ruefully. "Only a bit, though.” She grinned wider and he continued. “In any case, I accepted that you were a person, but I didn't like you. At all." He tilted his head to the side after looking at her jilted expression. "Granted, some of it was jealousy, but then during fourth year..."

"The Yule Ball?" she guessed. That was when Ron had suddenly discovered that she was of the female persuasion as well.

He looked taken aback. "What? No. You didn't even _look_ like yourself then. It was during that whole business with Rita Skeeter."

"Rita Skeeter?" she repeated dumbly, not sure what he meant. He was the one who started the problems with Rita Skeeter in the first place.

"She was trashing your reputation-" he paused. "Sorry about that."

She waved her hand dismissively. He had apologized for everything he had done long ago.

"Well... everyone was taunting you. But you just… ignored them." She looked at him questioningly. "It wasn't just that you ignored everyone, it was _how_ you did it. You looked almost…" he paused, searching for the correct word, "regal. You made everyone else seem foolish. I… I think that's when I really started to respect you. People were throwing shit at you, but _they_ came out covered in it. Not you."

"Oh." She was flattered, and hadn't been expecting that answer at all.

He looked at her apologetically. "I guess I didn't give you any reasons to respect me during school."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "You saved my life in sixth year… and possibly fourth. You’ve had more than my respect since then."

He grinned and shook his head.

"Draco?"

Still smiling, he answered, "Hermione."

"It's been bothering me…. Apparating into the fortress. Don't you think that will alert them? Set off alarms?"

He furrowed his brow. "Probably. I'm counting on our speed to do most of the damage before they'll be able to do anything about it. Remember, we want them to eventually know that we're on the inside. It'll be easier for the rest to get in."

"Yes, but we should delay that as long as possible, right? Are there any windows that we could go through?"

"You saw the map."

"Entrapped with spells and charms."

"We could probably figure out a way around them and get through, but that would take time, and some trial and error."

"Huh." Hermione bit her lip in thought. "What are the walls like?"

"They're made of these huge two ton stones." Sitting up and turning around, he gave a cursory glance to the rock that they were sitting against. "About this size, I guess. Are you thinking that we could blast our way through?" He peered at the stone. "Wizards couldn't, but we probably could."

She shook her head. "But then, we'd alert them, and they'd know that we were just coming in. They'd fortify the entrances, not pull back."

Draco was caressing the face of the rock as delicately as he had caressed her backside when they had lain in the field earlier. Giving her a side-long glance, he asked, "Fancy we could walk through the walls?"

Her eyes widened. "Have you done it?"

"No, it never crossed my mind to try." He gave her a sly grin and said, "Being with you brings out a world of possibility."

A giddy smile spread across her face as she watched him study the stone. He narrowed his eyes and bent forward, pressing his hand into the solid rock experimentally.

"I think if we—"

Suddenly inspired, she stood and pulled Draco up with her. She stepped in between Draco and the large rock, blocking his line of vision.

"Take my hands," she said, holding them out in front of her.

He clasped her small hands in his, and she took a steadying breath. Slowly, she proceeded to walk backwards, pulling him along. She watched Draco's awed expression as the rock swallowed her, obscuring her vision as everything went black. A few seconds later, they emerged on the other side.

"I… love you," he said, his voice lilting slightly with amazement. "How did you—?"

"A layered transfiguration and vanishing. Bit by bit."

"Nicely done." He nodded appreciatively. "Any other bits of the plan you want to take apart?" he teased her.

She gave him a sultry look and narrowed her eyes predatorily. "How about I just take apart your bits?"

A slow smile widened on Draco’s face, revealing his fangs. "Who knew," he said as he circled Hermione's waist with his hands, "that your talk of knocking me around would make me randy?"

She ran her hand up the back of his neck and played with the soft hairs there, flashing her teeth. "Do you like dominant women?"

He lowered his face to hers and said softly, "I like _you_."

Her devilish smile turned warm and she turned to face the slowly rotating earth. "Do you want to go somewhere else?" she asked, suddenly excited. "See more of the world before the battle? It's still night in parts of Africa. We could climb Mount Kilimanjaro."

He gave a wistful smile. "Let's just stay here for a while. This is… this is our place. It's pure. Untouched. After the battle, we'll do whatever you want. I don't care, so long as we're together."

She rested her head on his shoulder and they stood, watching the slowly rotating Earth. After a few minutes of silence, Hermione turned to Draco, pushing her bare breasts against his chest.

"You could bite me," she said in a lowered voice.

He quirked an eyebrow. "You're not making a very good case for travelling to Africa."

She reached down to stroke him and smirked at his budding erection. "I think this is why we've never heard of wizard vampires. They’ve got other priorities."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Hermione and Draco stood at the edge of the wards which surrounded the grounds of the fortress. She raised her hand; and slowly pressed it to the barrier. It rippled and gelled around her palm, bending to her will, and her lips parted in wonder.

"Amazing, isn't it?" Draco spoke softly into her ear.

"I thought this would be difficult," she said, studying the perturbations caused by her hand in fascination. "I can do whatever I want with it, and they won't know."

She closed her eyes, and a bright light emitted from her hand, spread and diffused into the barrier around her before dimming into the darkness. Slowly, she lowered her hand.

"That's it," she said breathily, still in disbelief of her own power.

She turned towards Draco, and sent a Patronus to Harry telling him that the wards were already modified and that they would start combing the grounds. She could already see the bizarre effect the wards had as fallen leaves swirled in the wind and accumulated at the interior edges. Anyone could go in, but no one could get out.

"You really think it will only take us five minutes to take out the external guard?" she asked him.

"Much less than that, assuming you don't stop to snack,” he smiled, baring his teeth. “Animals won't stave off your hunger, Hermione. No matter how much you wish it were so."

She looked down, ashamed, thinking of how she had attacked Harry and Ron.

"Hey," he said, lifting her chin with his fingers, "There's nothing for it; it can't be helped. This is the way we are. Now, you realize that you're likely to get a bout of bloodlust. Accept it and work around it."

"What if I ruin the surprise?"

"I won't let you. Nobody knows we're here and we have plenty of time until the guard changes. Our job is to make it easier for the rest. It's a good plan. It'll work."

She nodded. "I know. I just… thought I'd be with Harry and Ron at the very end." She gave a resigned sigh. "Now, I think I'd fuck it up for them."

"Probably," he said and she winced. "Look, you're making sure that they'll get there. This attack wouldn't be happening if it weren't for you."

"You helped, too," she protested.

He chuckled. "I could give a shit, Hermione." He looked deep into her eyes and she felt her breath hitch at the intensity there. "This is all for you."

She flushed with warmth and emotion at his words, and felt heartened by her part in the war, even though it was altered from what she originally thought it would be.

He gave a quick squeeze to her hand. "Remember: don't get too close, don't shed blood, and keep moving. It'll only take a few seconds for us to cover the grounds."

She nodded, gave him a half grin and then raised her eyebrow at him. "Beat you to the other side?"

He drew back and looked at her as if she had said something incredibly stupid. "Doubtful, Granger."

In a flash, she was silently running back and forth, covering the ground between the fortress wall and the ward, only stopping to survey her surroundings for a fraction of a second. Two guards were talking to each other in the distance, clad in black robes. She felled them instantly, and continued on further into the trees.

She couldn't deny that the scent of warm bodies wasn't affecting her, but she kept moving. She incapacitated another Death Eater. And another. And another.

She could do this, she could.

And then she stopped. She could smell someone nearby—hear a heartbeat. She looked around, but no one was in her line of sight. She leapt forward to where the source of the heartbeat was and looked to her right. A young woman with dark hair was leaning against a wide tree, thus explaining why Hermione hadn't seen her.

Her hood was thrown back and she had taken off her mask, staring down at it. She was so deep in thought that she hadn't even noticed Hermione appear behind her. Her hair was tied back, and Hermione could see every vein underneath her skin. Warm skin. Warm flesh.

Saliva pooled in her mouth, and she knew that she had to leave before losing herself to bloodlust. Summoning her willpower, she was just about to go when the Death Eater whirled around with her wand out, having heard Hermione's panting.

Immediately, the heartbeat that had Hermione so entranced sped up and the thrumming of blood became much louder as adrenaline rushed through the woman's body. She felt her fangs extend.

She gasped, "The Mudblood! Cruc—" The timbre in her voice sent Hermione's hunger into overdrive and before the woman could finish, Hermione knocked the wand out of her hand, pinned the Death Eater up against the tree, and sunk her teeth into her neck.

The woman cried out, which only spurred Hermione on, and she drank her fill of the sweet, sweet warmth. Her eyes rolled back and she moaned, rubbing herself against the woman, who was weakly clawing and pushing at Hermione, unsuccessfully trying to free herself.

Hermione felt an uncontrollable desire course through her and she ground her pelvis into the woman, writhing as she fed from her. It wasn't enough, she needed more; she was itchy and aching all over her body. The blood was at once sating her and inflaming her further.

Never releasing her latch on the woman's neck, she dragged her down to the ground and proceeded to gyrate over her rapidly weakening body, causing friction over her sensitive core. Slowly, the flow lessened. Frustrated, Hermione let out a growl and sucked harder, pressing herself more forcefully into the woman, as if stretching for something that she couldn't quite reach. Bit by bit, the flow slowed to a trickle, until it disappeared entirely. Bent over the now dead woman on all fours, Hermione extracted her fangs from her flesh with a snarl.

Sensing she wasn't alone, she looked up with a start to see Draco leaning against a tree with his arms folded, casually observing her in amusement.

She licked the blood from her lips and he grinned wickedly down at her, revealing his fangs.

Eyes glittering, he teased her in a sing-song voice, "I win."

With a shriek, she lunged at him, clamoring at his body so that he would fill her in the way that only he could.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Quickly, Hermione repaired her clothes muttering, "Shit, shit, shit, shit," and headed towards the exterior wall of the fortress.

"Where are you running off to?" Draco asked lazily.

She stopped in her tracks and looked incredulously back at him. "Why are you still on the ground? We've lost a lot of time! We have to go!"

"Firstly, because I've never been fucked so hard in my life and I'm sore as hell—not that I didn't enjoy myself, mind you." He gave her a lascivious smile. "Secondly, we have plenty of time before the guard changes. They won't know we're here until we start disrupting the fortress and the Order won't come until we signal. We could probably clear out half the fortress in ten minutes now that you're sated and better able to control yourself. Pending any extreme situations, we've got lots of time."

Gingerly, Draco crawled to his feet and winced as he stood up. Hermione hurried over to him. "Are you okay?"

He bent over and put his hands on his knees. "I'm in much better shape than that tree you threw me against." She looked over at the fallen tree, split down the middle.

"Sorry," Hermione said in a small voice, rubbing the smooth skin of his back.

He closed his eyes briefly. "Right… there… yeahhhhhhh…" She kneaded his muscles and a healing spell followed the movement of her hands.

After another groan, Draco looked over his shoulder to watch her work on his back. She met his eyes and slid her hands over the smooth expanse of his back, down to his buttocks, and back again.

"It's not so bad you know," she said.

"What's that?"

"Forever. With you."

He blinked, and she couldn't tell if he was happy from her admission, or sad in that she was giving so much of her previous life up. Probably both.

His voice lowered. "We'll find a way, Hermione. It'll just take time."

She swallowed, and gave him a small smile.

"Fortunately, we have it in spades."

A slow, half grin formed on his face. "That we do."

He stood up, stretched his long limbs, rolled his neck and turned around to face her.

"Ready?"

She cocked an eyebrow and gave him a once-over.

"Are you going to streak through the castle?"

He looked down as if nothing was amiss and said, "We wanted to surprise them, didn't we?"

She waved her hand and conjured a form-fitting black outfit on him and they walked towards the wall of the fortress.

"Why is it always black with you?"

"So we can't be seen," she answered.

"That's what Disillusionment Charms are for. You do know that the inside is lit up like the Great Hall on Christmas, don't you? Black won't do much towards concealment."

"Why are you complaining? I have yet to see you wear anything _but_ black."

He opened his mouth as if to retort, and then shut it, instead reaching out to pinch her bum before sprinting towards the wall of the fortress.

"Hey!" she called as she ran after him. But before she could retaliate, he was walking backwards, eyebrows raised, and a smirk plastered across his lips as he disappeared into the wall of the fortress.

She quickly followed, and the two emerged in a brightly lit hallway, empty but for the lit torches and suits of armor standing along the walls. They could hear voices on the other side of the far wall and approached it together.

"Again?" she asked.

"It will take them by surprise."

She glanced at him.

"Ready?"

He nodded.

She looked at the wall nervously. They could hear roughly fifteen people on the other side. Slowly, she walked forwards and blackness encased her. She emerged on the other side to see four robed men bent over a table while a fifth shouted out orders to the rest of the people in the room.

Abruptly, the fifth stopped shouting and stared directly at her. After a pause in which nobody spoke, the room seemed to move as one and everyone made to attack them. Hermione and Draco dodged and deflected curses with blinding speed, while taking out the robed figures bloodlessly. The whole thing lasted less than thirty seconds. Hermione looked around, admiring their work when she noticed that there weren't nearly as many beating hearts now as when they had first entered.

Hermione shot a horrified look at Draco. "You haven't been stunning them?"

He looked at her, incredulous. "You _have_?"

Hermione glared at him. "It's just as easy to stun as it is to kill. Easier, even!"

Draco exhaled sharply through his nose. "Do you want this war to end or not? We _need_ to finish them off! Hermione, you can't—"

She waved her hand. "We don't have time for this. I have to signal the Order. The Death Eaters will soon know that something is wrong, if they don't already. Let's go—and Draco?"

He looked up, glaring at her mutinously.

"Stun them."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Draco and Hermione proceeded in much the same fashion throughout the fortress. Sometimes following a path through the corridors, sometimes walking through walls, doing their best to take out as many pockets of Death Eaters as they could, as quickly as they could. Hermione found that Draco wouldn't follow her directives as she was used to the others in the Order doing. When they encountered Death Eaters, Hermione tried to stun them before Draco could kill them, the result was that they left a mix of dead and alive in their wake.

After he had needlessly killed someone that she had just stunned, she rounded on him furiously. "Has being a vampire made you so callous to human life?"

"I kill when I need to!" he shot back. "For food and defense!"

"Stunning them is enough! It's not always necessary to kill! You don't need to defend yourself from someone who's out cold!"

"Tell me, Hermione," Draco asked in mock query. "How many of the Dark Lord's supporters that were _not_ killed in the first war are fighting you right now in _this_ one?"

Hermione ground her teeth. "Going by your logic, Dumbledore should have killed you back in sixth year when he knew what you were doing. _I_ should have killed you back during the fake prisoner exchange!"

Draco snarled and pushed her roughly against the wall, knocking the wind out of her. "Yes," he growled down at her, "you should have."

"If I would have killed you," she spat at him, "we wouldn't be winning right now."

He dug his fingers into her shoulders, making her wince. "If Dumbledore would have offed me then, he would still be alive and the Dark Lord might have been killed before the second war even started."

She was seething, too angry to correct his assumption regarding Dumbledore's health at the time. With a lowered voice, she said, "Draco, you never would have done this before you turned into a vampire. You're murdering people." He flinched, but she continued mercilessly. "If you don't stop, I'm leaving you."

The effect was instantaneous. Draco's angry expression fell from his face and he sagged back, deflated. Hermione rubbed her shoulders where his grip had bruised her.

His voice took on a dejected tone. "I just… I just want you to be safe."

She sighed and her voice softened. "I know. Although they're vile, what you’re doing is unnecessary."

He swallowed, visibly shaken by her ultimatum. "Okay."

"Okay?" she said in a whisper.

He nodded, still affected. "I don't agree with you, but… yes."

She stood on her tiptoes and he lowered his head to receive her kiss.

" _Reducto!_ "

The ping of a ricochet followed by a large crash and disconcerting splatter sounded from one of the adjoining rooms. They both tensed as the air became thick with an overwhelmingly strong smell of blood. She looked into Draco's eyes, now shining hungrily down at her and felt him harden. Their fangs extended and she started to salivate. She knew that they should leave, but somehow she found herself in the middle of a blood-splattered room, with Draco beside her, just as hypnotized by the blood as she was. Looking around at the carnage, entranced, she didn't even remember how she had gotten there. Disembodied limbs and shattered glass were everywhere.

The compulsion to feed became overwhelming. Slowly, she turned to the lone figure standing in the doorway at the far end. He had a wound on his shoulder and was bleeding profusely. She couldn't hear his heartbeat because it had been silenced, but she felt the vibrations and small disturbances in the air around her… pulsing. His blood flowed red and warm out of his wound with the same rhythm. She started walking towards it and felt Draco moving slowly with her. Slowly, slowly, towards that pulse.

"Neville," Hermione said, completely entranced. "You're bleeding."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dare I kill off Neville? ::eyebrows wiggling::
> 
> Please tell me your thoughts, I love the reviews!


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Draco was terrified.

Hermione was naked, covered with blood, hugging her knees, and rocking back and forth on the floor. Crouched in front of her and trying to calm her down, he was at a complete loss of what to do. She didn't appear to hear anything he was saying. Her muttered half sentences gave no indication that she was listening to him. If anything, his attempts to get through to her were making her more upset.

"We… We… I can't believe we did that! I can't believe—oh! Draco! We're evil! Vile!" she hiccupped and started sobbing again.

He clutched her upper arms, trying to steady her and still her rocking. He tried to keep the panic out of his voice, but it rose in tenor nonetheless, foiling his attempts to soothe her. "Hermione, Hermione. Listen to me. There was too much blood. I had no control either."

She looked up and he felt ice flood his veins at the slightly crazed look in her eyes. Her words came out in bursts as she hyperventilated. "He wa-was my first friend! And we f-fed from him! We _killed_ him! And… And… _I knew what I was doing!_ And, _oh God!_ We, we—" Unable to continue her sentence, she sucked in a shuddering breath and continued to rock back and forth.

He didn't know what to do; he was losing her. In a moment of sheer desperation, he backhanded her.

Shocked, she looked up at him—hurt but coherent. " _This_ is what we are, Hermione. Accept it."

Her mouth was open and her eyes swiveled to stare at Longbottom's violated body.

"Hermione, look at me." She continued gaping, and Draco turned her around so that the corpse was behind her. "Look at me." She stared into his eyes, mouth still slightly open.

"He's not the only one of the Order that died tonight, and there will be more. It was an _accident_. Friendly fire. You are a _weapon_ and it was _friendly fire_ that killed him. That's happened to the Order before, hasn't it?"

She didn't answer, but a weak whimper left her mouth. "Parvati."

"What?" he asked, confused. Petrified that he would lose her attention again, he tried a different tack.

"Most of the Order will be leaving tonight unharmed, even against the odds they're facing. Do you know why?"

When she didn't answer, he grasped her shoulders and shook her gently, saying, "Do you?" She whimpered again.

"Because of _you_ , Hermione. You took an opportunity when it presented itself, even against my will. You _knew_ we'd be an incredible weapon, but underestimated how hard we would be to control. If it weren't for you, we wouldn't be here now, and the Order wouldn't be winning. Do you hear me?"

He shook her again, less gently this time.

"Do you?" he raised his voice, near panicking himself.

"Yes, yes!" she said, still crying.

"Hermione, it's war. People die. But _you already know this!_ You're an excellent strategist! I've experienced that on the opposing side! You know what needs to be done, and you do it! Gods, Hermione! Your side is _winning!_ Are you going to give up now?"

_Don'tgiveupdon'tgiveupdon'tgive- Please!_

She took a heaving breath and looked up at him. Her eyes were sad, yes, but sharp. Lucid. His muscles relaxed as relief spread through his entire body at the sight of her return to normalcy.

"Draco," she asked in a small voice, "Have you ever—?"

"Greg," he said, cutting her off.

He saw realization light up her eyes and she gasped. "I didn't know! You never said anything! You seemed…"

"I told you. I accept what I am. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I wasn't as upset as I would have been had we been as close as we were back in school. He…" Draco swallowed, "despised me after I changed. And, well, that was the night I got you. I've never attacked anyone that I really loved… not until you."

She smiled weakly and then dropped her head into her hands.

Not wanting her to slip away from him again, Draco pulled her up to a stand, and wiped away her tears, smearing blood on her face in the process. He cupped her cheek and said in an even voice, " _Accept_ what you are. Accept it, and stay away from those you love. Come on, it's not over yet. We can have this conversation another time."

She seemed hesitant to leave and he pressed on. "For every one of them that we ki… incapacitate, we're bringing the end of this war sooner and reducing the casualties your friends will suffer."

She looked up at him pleadingly. "No, it's not that. Please! We can't… we can't _leave_ him like that."

He glanced over her shoulder at Longbottom's violated corpse on the floor, and then into her horrified eyes. His voice lowered. "I'll take care of him. Wait for me in the next room."

"Thanks," she whispered.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Draco and Hermione, worn out a bit emotionally but otherwise unscathed, continued in much the same fashion. Running from room to room, stunning Death Eaters, and evading members of the Order as best they could. Keeping away from the Order was usually easy, since the rotting stench of garlic warned them of their proximity.

After some time of traversing empty rooms, they ran into Lupin, who had given them an impressed nod of approval, and Tonks, who was half in shock with the success of the operation.

"Wait," Hermione called out as they turned to leave so as not to be in the presence of the two vampires.

Lupin and Tonks stopped and turned around.

"You sure?" Lupin asked, eyes narrowed.

She nodded. They had all but engorged themselves just a few minutes ago.

"How many… who else has died?"

"Who did you see dead?" Lupin asked quickly, brow furrowed in worry.

Hermione felt herself tear up. She opened her mouth to answer, but nothing came out.

"Longbottom," Draco answered for her and squeezed her hand lightly.

She swallowed. _What would she do without him?_

"Neville?" Tonks repeated, dismayed. "We didn't know! Where did you see him? They haven't found him yet."

"Back in the east corridor towards the armaments room," Draco answered again for her.

"Oh, Hermione," Tonks said as she finally noticed the horror-struck on Hermione's face. "I know that you two were close. But we're winning! His death wouldn't be for nothing. And we'll get the bastards who killed him. We will."

 _Gods!_ Hermione sucked in a shuddering breath. She had to keep it together. But she had to tell them. She had to.

Draco was rubbing circles on the underside of her wrist, but she could tell that he was tensing up, afraid for her.

"Who else?" she asked, her voice scratchy.

"Kingsley Shacklebolt, Susan Bones, Seamus Finnegan, and Dennis Creevey," Lupin answered.

"Dennis Creevey?" Hermione said in shock, finally able to get control of her voice. "But he's a mediwizard! He just takes the dead and injured away!"

Lupin nodded at her grimly. "Lavender said they were attacked while he and Colin were carrying her out."

"Lavender's injured?"

Tonks answered this time. "She's got a broken leg and some spell injured her spine."

She gasped. "Her spine?"

Tonks nodded gravely. "Hers is the most serious injury. Madam Pomfrey should be able to mend the rest."

Hermione took a deep breath and gazed up at the two. They had to know. "About Neville…"

Hermione felt a slight tug on her arm. She looked to Draco and saw him shake his head.

"We'll find him," Lupin answered. "Don't worry."

With a wave, they went off to another room.

Hermione turned to Draco, her lips trembling.

"I need to tell them!" she protested.

Tenderly, he placed a hand on either side of her face. "Now is not the time," he whispered. "They'll figure it out anyway when they find his body. Let's finish this."

She closed her eyes and nodded, and they moved on.

After the majority of the Death Eaters had been defeated, Hermione and Draco finally arrived at a circular room, which had multiple doors—much as the Department of Mysteries had. Draco frowned in thought.

"What is it?" Hermione asked.

"A trap. It wasn't like this when I was here before."

Hermione waved her hand, sensing the ebb and flow of the magic around her, and pointed to the door that appeared to be the one they had just entered from.

"That one."

Draco slowly approached and rested his fingertips on the handle. "Potter and Weasley. They're already there, and they're surrounded."

Her eyes widened. "Hurry! They might be—"

He turned to Hermione and the expression on his face stopped her mid sentence. His whole demeanor had suddenly changed. His eyes were worried, sad. He seemed reluctant to enter and… maybe afraid? She didn't understand why. Was he nervous?

"These will be the best of the Dark Lord's Death Eaters," Draco explained. She could detect a slight tremor in his voice. He was definitely agitated about something. "It's his inner circle. Intelligent, trained, and experienced." He probed the door with his fingers. "It's… We can't walk through this time. They know what we've been doing."

Troubled. He looked troubled. Indecisive maybe? But they had to get in! Who knew what was going on in there?

"Draco," she said, approaching him and feeling slightly panicked. "We have to go in now. They're alone!"

Slowly, he raised his eyes to hers. "By now, they know what we are and what we're capable of. They'll be ready for us. We should wait for back-up." And he shot red sparks down the hall so that the Order would know where to follow.

What was wrong with him? They could take out a room of twenty in less than a minute.

"Draco, we _are_ the back-up!" Was he nervous about seeing Voldemort? He wasn't afraid of death, she knew that much. And neither was she. What had gotten into him?

As she prepared to blast open the door, he pulled her back.

His voice became husky. "Hermione, wait."

She swallowed at the seriousness in his tone and looked up at him. He glanced at the door and then back down at her. He rested his hand on the nape of her neck, not quite ready to release her, and stroked her collarbone with his thumb. The look on his face was resigned.

He slid his hand to the nape of her neck and then fisted her hair possessively. "You're strong."

She stared up at him, bewildered. He was stating it like a fact, as much to reassure her as he was himself. His eyes were loving, admiring, caring. She was going to ask him what he meant, when two agonized screams rang out from behind the door.

Her stomach dropped at the sound of her best friends being tortured. She had to get to them _now_. She broke away from him and held her hand up to the door, summoning her magic.

His eyes widened and he struggled to turn her towards him. "Hermione, wait! You're not think—"

She shrugged him off, Harry and Ron's screams were causing her adrenaline to run on overdrive. "Kill the snake!" she ordered him.

"Hermione!" he shouted as she blasted the door open. "No!"

Nearly twenty Death Eaters were standing in a circle with Voldemort at the head, laughing. Harry and Ron were in the middle, writhing on the floor in pain. In a flash, she erected a shield between them and the curses being aimed at them, healed their wounds and pulled them to their feet.

She looked for Draco, who was on the other side of the room, hands bloody, and standing over torn pieces of Nagini's body with a few Death Eaters laying prone on the floor around him. He wasn't looking at her though, he was looking directly at Ron, who was nodding, wide-eyed. Everything happened so quickly, she didn't have time to process what he was doing or why.

The Death Eaters all raised their wands to the ceiling and chanted as one, their voices deafening.

" _Lumos sol!_ "

Her eyes widened in fear and she leapt to attack them, killing three but knowing she would never be able to fell them all before the spell started. Draco hurled himself at her, pinning her to the ground and shielding her with his body. A blinding light filled the room and she erupted in flames. It hurt so much, she couldn't summon the magic necessary to protect herself.

Just as suddenly, she was enveloped in darkness, but she and Draco were still shrieking in pain, clinging to each other while they burned.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Harry looked up at Ron, and then down at the husk of a body lying on the floor in front of them. She was completely unrecognizable.

"How can this possibly work?" Ron asked, his voice shaking. "She's… she's…"

Harry studied the greyish mass that was once Hermione with determination. "No, I don't think she's dead. Vampires don't have corpses, and _she_ still has a body to heal. You see the bits of ash from where he was shielding her?"

Ron looked disbelievingly down at the charred remains before him. " I'll do anything for her. Here."

He took the knife from Harry and sliced his wrist open, wincing as his blood dropped into what was left of Hermione's mouth. Harry gave him his belt and he wrapped it around his forearm, tightening it so that the flow would increase.

The two of them watched the lifeless husk in front of them intently for a few seconds. Nothing appeared to be happening at first, and then, to their astonishment, they saw the beginnings of renewal and regrowth spread throughout her body. Their eyes widened.

"Thank Merlin," Harry said as he sighed in relief. "How did you know that eclipse spell?"

A tinge of shame and regret appeared in Ron's eyes. "Malfoy told me through some form of Legilimency right before you killed Voldemort. He knew he wouldn't live long enough for his spell to keep them covered and needed me to recast it." His voice turned soft. "He really loved her."

They looked down. As the flow of blood increased, so did the pace of her body's regrowth. They could see shriveled, blackened, papery substances slowly inflate and become tissue, muscle, blood vessels and organs. Her charred bones became whole and white. They could see her fangs clearly now.

"Harry, I don't think I can watch this!" Ron said, clutching his stomach.

Alarmed, Harry looked up at him, his skin was much paler than usual, and he was swaying. "Here, you gave her too much. Let's switch. Take this."

He handed Ron the bottle of blood replenishing potion, cut his wrist and held it over Hermione's mouth. Her body began to fill out and take shape. Skin nucleated and grew, covering her insides.

Ron took off his belt and wrapped it around Harry's arm, increasing the flow. Still feeling woozy, he drank another two bottles of blood replenishing potion. Suddenly, Hermione's limbs began twitching and her body convulsed.

"Harry!" Ron yelled, terrified. "What's wrong with her?"

Harry shook his head, intent on making sure that his blood continued pouring into her mouth despite her erratic movements.

"Don't know; hold her still."

Ron pinned her down but her hands shot out and she grabbed Harry's arm, sinking her teeth into his flesh. He grunted in pain as she drank.

Hair sprouted out of her scalp, and her external features took shape and became more recognizable. Harry tried to pull away, but she was much too strong now that she was able to move her limbs.

"Ron!" he called, "Bind her! And I'll need a few."

She opened her eyes and Harry looked down at her in relief. She looked completely feral, and was growling while sucking from him, but she was alive and functioning.

"Hey," he said, brushing her hair back tenderly. "Sorry about this." She didn't alter her death grip on his arm, or give any indication that she had understood him.

" _Incarcerous Argentum_!"

She screamed as the silver cut into her body and he pulled his arm away. He could see her body degenerating again before his eyes and his voice became panicky.

"Hurry, Ron!"

They switched, with Ron now giving her blood, and she began to immediately heal again. Harry took his share of the blood replenishing potions. He didn't realize how much she had sapped his energy until after being reinvigorated.

She leaned upward, straining to reach Ron's wrist and snapping at the air in between swallows.

"Cover her," Ron said in a strained voice.

Harry looked down, and immediately shut his eyes to block out the image of Hermione, now completely healed, naked and writhing next to him. Quickly, he conjured a blanket and spread it over her.

Ron looked up at him. "When do we stop?"

"Good question." Harry pressed down on his wound, trying to stop the flow until it would be his turn. "I guess, until she doesn't need anymore."

"How much will she need? We might have to get more people, more potions."

"That's enough," came a scratchy voice from below. His wrist tingled as Hermione's magic healed the wound.

They both looked down, and at the sight of Hermione's smiling eyes, an incredible wave of relief washed over them.

She grunted, trying to tolerate the pain from the binding.

"Can we release you?" Ron asked.

"Yes, I've fed enough," her voice was still scratchy. Ron reached for his wand and then she shook her head. A resigned expression was on her face. "No, I don't know. Draco would be a better judge. Ask him."

Harry looked up at Ron, whose mouth had formed a flat line.

She lifted her head up. "He didn't make it?" She looked between Harry and Ron, neither of whom could meet her eyes. She laid her head back down and turned it to the side.

"I'm sorry, Hermione," Ron said sincerely. "He gave his life for you."

Harry could see tears slowly leaking from her eyes, but she made no sound, she made no movement.

He squeezed her shoulder. "He won't be remembered as a Death Eater. We'll see to that."

Her voice came out flat. "He knew, you know. Before we even entered the room. He knew what would happen."

She squeezed her eyes shut, and Harry watched silent sobs wrack her body.

Harry looked down at her. He didn't know what to do. She was obviously in so much more pain than the silver could inflict upon her. He felt an empty feeling in his gut. It was just like Lupin said. She had sacrificed her human life to win the war. But now she was alone. She couldn't be with friends, she couldn't be with family, and she had lost Draco—her only companion. He felt her loss and ached for her.

"Hermione," Ron leaned down, unsure of himself, and then wrapped her in a strong and tender hug.

"No, Ron!" she protested, tears streaming out of her eyes. "I'm not safe!"

"Shhhh," he said and held her close. Her sobbing became louder and Harry cradled her too.

The three lay there for a while, holding onto one another while Hermione cried until she wasn't able. After a few heaving shudders, she spoke in a soft, raspy voice.

"My… My parents. How can I..." They pulled away from her. She was exhausted, resigned, and in pain from the silver.

Ron clasped her hand and gave it a light squeeze. "We'll take care of them."

"Tell them..." she squeezed her eyes shut and heaved another sob. "Tell them that I love them. That I'm sorry for everything and…" she swallowed. "Tell them that I died."

"Died a hero," Harry said, his throat constricting as he struggled not to cry himself.

"Like Draco," she whispered. She shut her eyes tight while a few more tears leaked out. Harry tightened his embrace and Ron followed suit. He felt her body shudder and then relax while they held her.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Six months later, Harry and Ron were again at the kitchen table reading a letter from Hermione, which came with several pictures. She had been putting the camera they sent her to good use, and they had started filling an album to document her travels.

Ron was holding up several photos at the same time and studying them with a furrowed brow. "They all look the same. And they might as well be Muggle pictures; nothing's moving."

Harry grabbed a photo and studied it. "It's Antarctica. What did you expect?"

"I don't know… penguins?"

"She's probably eating them."

Ron grimaced and Harry pulled out some more of her photos.

"Wow, Ron, look at this." The two looked at the slowly rotating bright blue hemisphere of Earth: so bright against the inky black of space. "She must have charmed the picture so it would rotate faster."

Ron lightly touched the rotating globe and said, "She's been spending an awful lot of time between those two places. I mean, I know that she wants to keep away from people, but doesn't this seem a little extreme? She hasn't mentioned going anywhere else. There's just… nothing _there_. Her photos are bleak. Empty. I'm not exactly one to look for hidden meanings but…"

Harry furrowed his brow. "Yeah, I know. Are you worried?"

Ron picked up Hermione's letter and reread it, somberly. "Harry… she's still mourning him. She doesn't say it, but… her letter sounds forced. It's not really her. You don't think she'd…" His voice trailed off. He didn't want to voice his thoughts; it was too horrible.

Harry's eyes snapped to Ron's. "No. No. She wouldn't. She'll get through it. I just… wish we could be there for her more. I wish she would come."

"She won't," Ron said darkly. "Not after Neville."

The two sat in silence, looking at the stark beauty of her photos.

Ron looked up. "Do you think she's read the books?"

Harry shook his head to the negative. "She would have told us. You know how she is."

Suddenly, Hedwig flew through the window holding a completely ordinary white envelope. She dropped it in front of Harry. He flipped it over, but didn't recognize the return address.

"Huh." Inserting his finger into the flap, he broke the seal of the envelope and pulled out the letter. He got so much shit in the mail nowadays since Voldemort's defeat. Product endorsement offers, fan mail, job offers, marriage proposals…

He quickly skimmed the letter, smiled, and went back to read it more slowly.

"What does it say?" Ron asked, reaching to yank the letter out of Harry's grasp.

Harry stood up, deftly dodging Ron's hand. "'Dear Mr. Potter,'" he began in a mock serious tone, "'I was most deeply honored to hear that the Boy-Who'—Bugger him. I'm twenty-four years old. Why do people still insist on calling me that?"

"Skip the dramatics and tell me what it says," Ron said impatiently.

"We've got Damocles Belby on board."

Ron gave a whoop.

"He says that he's been too idle since he completed the Wolfsbane potion, and that a potion to temper the cravings of vampires would be a"—he adopted his mock serious tone again—"fine academic venture."

Harry read the rest of the letter eagerly. "He says that he'll need sufficient funding and labor at his institute, but that it shouldn't be a problem if we would work on bringing in potential investors with him."

Ron glanced down at his worn T-shirt and groaned. "I'll have to get my dress robes out again, won't I? It will be just like all those damn awards ceremonies. Any news of Hermione's inheritance? That would help."

Harry shook his head to the negative. "The Ministry is making it difficult; trying to find a loophole. Percy is doing his best."

"They'd love nothing better than to get their hands on the Malfoy fortune. If Hermione were able to appear before them, it would make things so much easier. Ungrateful bastards." Ron snorted in disgust. "So what else does Belby say?"

Harry continued reading through the letter. "That there are several different angles from which to attack the problem… eager to embark on this endeavor… virgin field of research… He sounds just a bit too excited about this, if you ask me."

"Good," Ron said. "I want Hermione back and… we owe it to her."

"We do."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

_"Hermione, wait! You're not think—"_

_"Kill the snake!"_

_"Hermione! No!"_

She didn't fault herself for her rashness. Harry and Ron might have died if they had waited any longer. But she still wondered if she had taken a few minutes to think things through, maybe they _all_ would have lived. With all of her power and strength, she couldn't predict the future, or know what could have been.

_"I doubt I'll live that long."_

Hermione leaned back against the rock, looking at how the skin of her limbs was highlighted against the bluish glow of Earth. Everything was silent and desolate. Nothing had changed here, and yet everything was different.

 _"This is… this is_ our _place. It's pure. Untouched. After the battle, we'll do whatever you want. I don't care, so long as we're together."_

Her stomach churned. She felt so empty and hollow inside. She would never be whole again. To her left, she saw a few of Draco's footprints in the grey dust. They were untouched, preserved by the lack of motion, the lack of life, and the desolation. Tenderly, she reached down and placed her hand inside the depression of dust.

_"This is the most real sensation I've had since... then."_

Extending her index finger, she traced the outline of his heel, his instep and toes. His footprints would remain here undisturbed for quite some time. Until the next asteroid, she supposed. Or maybe one day, an astronaut would pass by this very spot, wondering how it was possible that footprints from a human's bare foot had come to pass here.

_"Thanks for understanding. For helping me through this."_

She chuckled, despite herself, and then a few tears began to spill. They evaporated as soon as they lost contact with her body, never reaching the dusty, rocky ground. Hugging her chest and bent over her knees, she started to cry silently.

_"I didn't mean to… Hermione… I'm sorry... For everything."_

She squeezed her eyes shut and ground her teeth together, sobbing so hard that she fell over onto her side, clutching her body in a foetal position.

_"You're different. I've always wanted you."_

She cried wretchedly and her stomach heaved. After a time, she felt that she didn't have any tears left to shed. She bit her lip and whimpered as the occasional shudder passed through her.

_"I wish… I wish that things were different for us."_

_"I love you too, Draco."_

Opening her eyes, she looked at the camera that Harry and Ron sent her. She could see her tear streaked face reflected in the lens. She wondered if Draco could see her now and wondered what he would think. If he were alive, he would hate himself for what she was going through.

_"I just… I just want you to be safe."_

She thought about what he would have done if their positions were reversed.

_"So you'd off yourself if you were alone?"_

_"After a time. It's not really… much of a life without the people you love. And I already miss the sunrise."_

And here she was. Completely and utterly alone.

She thought back to the night of the battle.

_"You're strong."_

Was she? She felt like a dry, brittle leaf that would crumble at the slightest touch. Sometimes, she wished that Harry and Ron had just left her to die.

She stared at her reflection in the camera lens for a while longer, and watched herself rub her eyes. She sat up and gazed at the bright blue Earth. It was rotating and it was changing. It was limitless, like her. She glanced over to her right to the stack of packages that had remained untouched since Harry and Ron had started sending them to her a few months ago. They were books, she knew, and she hadn't even opened them.

_You're strong._

Maybe it was time.

Taking a breath, she reached out and brought the first package onto her lap, and tore it open. It was a Muggle textbook on geology from the University of Cambridge Press. She flipped through it, looking at color pictures of various rock formations, and noticed their captions stating their locations. She hadn't been to any of those places yet. She had wanted to go... with Draco.

She flipped it shut and read the back cover. It looked like a very comprehensive introduction that any freshman would need.

An interesting choice. This would have been the most recent book they sent.

More curious, she wiped her eyes, pulled over another package and tore it open. The book was published by some niche scientific society that she had never heard of and was entitled ‘Recent Findings in Antarctica.’ She flipped through it. This was very advanced, very dense reading. She didn't even know if she'd be able to comprehend it, but... she'd try. She had to try, didn't she? How else could she continue to exist if she didn't?

She put that book aside and picked up another package. This was a textbook for a university-level class in Astronomy. She had already taken Astronomy at Hogwarts, but the Muggle science would be completely different. Fascinating. Draco could hardly believe how much more Muggles knew about the universe than wizards.

Hermione closed her eyes and took another breath. Harry and Ron were incredibly thoughtful in their choices. She wished that she had them to help her through this.

She pulled over another book from the pile and it seemed that each tome was thicker than the next. This one was entitled ‘Ecosystems,’ also from the University of Cambridge Press, and was filled with colorful photographs of plants and animals, including captions stating the location of the subject. She paged through, admiring the pictures, before she turned another page and paused. It was of several colorful fish swimming in a coral reef. She looked at the caption and saw that it was from the Great Barrier Reef in Australia. She could… go anywhere she wanted. She could swim in shallow rivers and lakes; she could venture to the deepest parts of the ocean.

She felt a surge of love for them. There was so much knowledge that she could acquire, so much that she could explore without having to be in contact with humans. And what's more, she literally had all the time in the world to do it. If only Draco...

If only.

_You're strong._

The thoughtfulness of their choices made her want to start crying all over again. She closed the book on Ecosystems and eagerly brought over the next to last one on the pile.

This book was a compendium of knowledge on vampires. She really should have gotten something like this a long time ago, and scolded herself mentally for being so lax. She opened it and saw that Harry and Ron had inscribed a brief message for her on the inside:

_We hope it will help you understand yourself more. We tried reading it, but it was too long. You'll have to come back and explain it to us._

_Love,_

_Harry and Ron_

She chuckled lightly, and wiped away the tears that ran down her cheek anew. She looked over at the last package. This would be the first book that they had sent her. Smiling, she lifted the flap. When she saw what it was, she laughed out loud and then sighed in contentment. A rush of warmth passed through her body at the sudden swell of love she felt for Harry and Ron. They had sent her very own, well-worn copy of _Hogwarts, A History_.

She flipped through it, feeling a comforting nostalgia while looking at the pictures of familiar passageways, portraits, gargoyles, and statues. Tucked into the back flap were two pieces of parchment: one torn, and one neatly folded that had obviously been magicked. She took out the torn piece first.

_We thought that this would keep you company since you don't have us to pester you right now. You're not alone, Hermione. We'll always be here for you. Please consider coming back. We'll find a way to make it work. We think about you all the time and miss you._

_Love,_

_Harry and Ron_

_P.S. Madam Pince prepared a listing of the entirety of the Hogwarts Library for you. It's at your disposal._

_P.P.S. Since you have superpowers, it's about time you learned how to ride a broom._

-fin (First ending)-

.

.

_._

_Sound of vigorous typing at the keyboard, interrupted by a door slamming. Mistress Lynn jumps a good 6 inches into the air off of her couch._

Draco: The fuck is this?

Mistress Lynn: Excuse me?

Draco *looking incredulous*: You killed me off!

Mistress Lynn: Umm… yeah. It's a tragedy, somebody has to die. Get back in the story, we have the alternate plotline to do.

Draco *crossing his arms*: I _know_ what a goddamn tragedy is. Kill someone else. I'm not doing a fucking thing until you write me back in.

Mistress Lynn *with a pitiful attempt at coyness*: It's only a tragedy when _you_ die. Look at how heartbroken the readers are! Wait until you see the reviews-

Draco *eyebrow raised*: Are you trying to butter me up?

Mistress Lynn *sighing*: Yes. Now will you _please_ get back in the story?

Draco: Not unless the second plotline is better.

Mistress Lynn *angling the screen so that Draco can't see*: Define… "better."

Draco *narrowing eyes*: After this treatment, you owe me.

Mistress Lynn *coughing to cover up laughter*: Owe you?

Draco: Big time.

Mistress Lynn: What did you have in mind?

Draco: Nothing less than three chapters of debauchery with several big breasted young women- *Mistress Lynn looks forlornly down at her 34 barely-B's* -would get me back.

Mistress Lynn *typing while reading aloud from the screen*: One day, Draco found himself staring at _Ronald Weasley_ in a way which was quite uncharacteristic for –

Draco *looking a bit unnerved*: Wait, what are you-

Mistress Lynn: -noticed that his red hair and freckles were actually quite attractive-

Draco *uncrossing arms*: Hey! I didn't sign up for this!

Mistress Lynn: -realized that his animosity towards the youngest male Weasley all those years at Hogwarts was really an expression of his-

Draco: Alright, alright, ALRIGHT! I'll get back in! Just… *shudders* delete that, will you?

Mistress Lynn *smiling sweetly*: Done.

Draco: Bitch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo... going all the way back to where we left off in Chapter 3 at Malfoy Manor. You're welcome to reread those chapters if you want, to get into the mood for the alternate plotline, but it's not required.
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> Also - shoutout to Tamlane (if she's reading this). I totally got the idea of an author/character dialogue from her.


	11. Chapter 11 - Alternate ending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the alternate story line where I promise - no major character death! You all have suffered enough!
> 
> If you'd like to get back into the mood, reread chapters 1 - 3.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sound of tape rewinding *
> 
> Back at the manor...

**Chapter 11 – Alternate ending**

"Come on, Granger, let's get you out of here. Sunrise is in two and a half hours. They'll be here before then to pick you up, and I..." His voice caught and he looked at her from under his fringe. "I don't know how much longer I can be around you."

Her eyes flickered down to his nakedness. Still limp. For now.

He stood and, still holding her hand, pulled her to standing. He exhaled, and a quick blast of wind told her that that he had just used _Scourgify_ on them both.

His display of magic reminded her of what she was missing.

"Where's my wand?"

His mouth flattened into a line of reluctant acceptance. She was no longer interested in becoming a vampire. He couldn't blame her.

"I don't have it. I'm sorry."

He eyed the bloody sheet wrapped around her body.

"What do you usually wear?"

Hermione looked down and thought a bit. "Something black or grey… Form-fitting, but not restrictive. Nothing shiny. I need to be unseen."

"Hmm…" Draco tapped his chin, chuckling despite himself.

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Maybe I'd be better off with the sheet."

But when the transfiguration of the bed linen was complete, she looked down to see the short-sleeved blouse, skirt, knee socks, and shoes of the Hogwarts uniform.

She laughed.

Draco motioned with his finger, and Hermione twirled as he assessed his work. "It looks strange on you."

"How so?" Hermoine asked, still smiling.

His eyes bored into her. "You're not a girl anymore."

She swallowed. And he was no boy.

"Draco?" Her voice lowered at his proximity.

"Hmm?" His fingers caressed the skin of her arms. She shivered.

"What will they do to you?" If he let her go, they would know. What would he do? Her heart went out to him. Even after all this time, was he still trapped?

"Nothing. I'm leaving. They won't be able to find me."

She smiled, somewhat giddy. Was he finally joining the Order?

"What about…" She raised her eyebrows and looked around the room.

"The Manor will lock itself up to outsiders. I have no use for it anymore." Draco gave her a half grin. "You've probably had enough of my blood to be identified as a Malfoy at this point. You want it?" he asked, gesturing to the room broadly. "It's yours."

Not knowing quite how to answer such an offer, she remained silent.

He brought his eyes back to hers, gave a wistful sigh, and asked, "Where to?"

Hermione looked down at her uniform. "Actually, Hogwarts will do. Near the Forbidden Forest where the anti-Apparation wards end. We have ways of getting to headquarters from—"

She almost fell over at the sudden nausea caused by Side-Along Apparition. Draco righted her, and she inhaled the fresh night air, trying to rid herself of the stomach ache. He had demonstrated his power before, but his speed and ability to perform magic simply by thinking still surprised her.

Looking up, she saw the castle’s lights, the place that had been her home away from home for so many years. They had landed near the Forbidden Forest, outside the boundry of the anti-Appartion wards. Draco, in his pale, inhuman nakedness, looked wild, as if he belonged to the woods. Dread formed a pit in her stomach.

"Draco?" Her voice shook slightly.

He turned to her, shoulders slumping, eyes pained and despondent .

"You're not coming with me, are you?"

"If I could control…" He clenched his jaw and closed his eyes. "No, I think not."

Her stomach churned, and tears pricked her eyes. "We'd work with you. You'd be a great asset with your abilities. The Order would work around your… limitations."

He smiled sadly and stroked her hair. "With all that blood during raids? You'd be dueling Death Eaters while I ate and fucked the person nearest to me—friend or enemy. I'd be a liability."

Draco tensed and leaned back from her.

"In fact," he said, voice tight, "I don't know how much time I have left with you before I do something we both regret."

"But what if you fed and," she looked to the ground, "you know, beforehand?" She looked up at him again.

"I fed before you woke tonight and still I…" He shook his head. "I would kill you," he said, inhaling her scent, his eyes fluttering closed. "And I would enjoy it. Immensely."

She fingered her tie, uncertain, only then noticing that it was the green and silver of the Slytherin house.

"What's—"

"Something to remember me by," he whispered with a smile, "and to mess with your friends."

She laughed, sniffled in an attempt not to cry, and then gave up, allowing a few hot tears to spill down her cheeks. He drew into a close embrace.

"But you're free now, after all this time." Hermione’s voice cracked as the rough pad of his thumb wiped away her tears. " I don't want to lose you."

His voice pleaded in her ear. "Hermione, I've wished I was with you every night of my existence, but I can't risk being around you."

He gently cupped her face and leaned towards her. She closed her eyes. The cold, night air caused the tears to chill on her cheeks, which warmed when Draco brushed his lips against hers. Her mouth parted as the touch of his tongue, and she shivered when his fingers caressed the skin of her throat. Her body trembled with suppressed sobs. This felt like a goodbye; he really was going to leave. She reached up to draw him closer, to deepen the kiss, but he pulled away with a whimper.

He was panting, and his fangs were out.

"I'm sorry. I can't."

Desperation rose within her. "Draco, please, wait! We haven't considered—"

Too quickly to see, he reappeared ten feet away in the thick of the trees. His grey eyes gleamed like a predator’s, ferocious in their intensity.

She started towards him, but he stilled her with a choked cry. "No, don't! Stay there."

She backed up, torn between fear and her desire not to lose him. "Please, wait—"

In a barely controlled growl, he cut her off. "Win the war."

And before she could blink, he was gone.


	12. Chapter 12 - Alternate ending

**Chapter 12 - Alternate ending**

Feeling like an Inferius, Hermione climbed the front porch steps of 12 Grimmauld Place. Her tears had dried, but it was obvious that she had been crying. Not much to be done about that. She took a deep, steadying breath and knocked. After a pause, she heard a flurry of muffled noises behind the dark green, oak door.

"Who is it?" Mrs. Weasley’s groggy voice called out.

"Hermione." But her throat was dry, and her answer was not much more than a rasp.

 _"Who?"_ Hermione heard more footsteps.

"Hermione," she repeated, louder and not without considerable effort.

A cacophony of excited voices spoke over each other as the door began to open. Before it could open more than a crack, the door slammed closed with a bang and she heard Lupin's gruff voice.

"Ask her."

"But Remus!" Mrs. Weasley protested.

"She could be injured!" Harry countered.

"Ask. Her."

Ron's voice rang out next. "Who did you turn into the first time you took Polyjuice potion?"

She smiled ruefully at the memory. It was a trick question. Ron could be quite clever when he wanted to be. She raised her voice again and answered, "Millicent Bulstrode's cat."

At this, the door flung open, and she was pulled inside, smothered by a throng of warm bodies, all hugging and kissing her. Questions and exclamations surrounded her, coming much faster than she could process.

"Where have you _been!_ "

"I was at—"

"— have you seen Padma?"

"No, she—"

"Are you hurt?"

"I don't… No—"

"Was it the Death Eaters?"

"Yes, but—"

"— wearing a Hogwarts uniform?"

"I—"

"Is that a _Slytherin_ tie?"

She buried her face in her hands and groaned.

"Back off, you lot! Give her some air!"

Mrs. Weasley wrapped her in a soft, motherly embrace and helped her upstairs to her room. Harry and Ron followed, but the matron shooed them away.

"We don't even know if she's hurt yet."

"She said she wasn't!" Ron argued, but she silenced him with a glare.

"Can't you see she's not feeling quite right? Leave us alone for a while. You can have her later."

She pushed them out and shut the door on their loud protests. Hermione didn't much want to talk to Mrs. Weasley, but she was thankful for efforts in evoking quiet. Feeling dazed, she sat down on her bed and watched Mrs. Weasley cast an Imperturbable Charm on the door. Harry and Ron cursed as they realized that Extendable Ears wouldn't work. Her lips pulled into a half smile. Nothing got past this woman. She _had_ raised seven Weasley children, after all—including the twins.

Mrs. Weasley cast a silencing charm on the door to muffle their protestations.

"Now then, dear." The bed creaked and dipped as Mrs. Weasley sat beside her. She took Hermione's hand and looked into the eyes. "Are you alright? Are you injured?"

Hermione tried to answer, but her voice caught. She had to clear it before speaking. "Yes, I'm fine. It was just… A very exhausting experience."

Mrs. Weasley's eyes searched her face and her body, trying to see what was amiss. Uncomfortable with her scrutiny, Hermione looked down.

"How about I make you a cup of tea and bring you some biscuits?" She patted Hermione’s hand. "You get off to bed, and we'll talk in the morning."

"No, Mrs. Weasley, I need…" She took a breath. Mrs. Weasley looked at her patiently. "I have to tell you. There's a lot we don't know. And then…" She cleared her throat again. "You’ll need to tell the rest of the Order. Tonight. I just can't face them right now."

Mrs. Weasley's lips parted slightly. Hermione could sense her anxiety and appreciated her restraint in not bombarding her with questions.

"All right, then."

She waited for Hermione to speak, but Hermione couldn't quite find the words. All she could see was Draco disappearing into the Forbidden Forest, leaving her forever.

She squeezed her eyes tight and felt more hot tears spill.

"Shhhhh… There, there." Mrs. Weasley drew her into a hug and stroked her hair. Hermione let her body relax and lay limp against her plump, comforting body. "You don't have to say anything now, dear. Just get some—"

"No." Hermione wiped her eyes and then hiccupped a sob. "It was Padma."

"Padma? Where is she? Was she with you? We've been look—"

"She’s a traitor," she said, rubbing her eyes again. "She betrayed me."

Mrs. Weasley didn't say anything for a minute, and then asked, "Are you sure it was her?" Her ring snagged in Hermione's curls. She winced as Mrs. Weasley extracted her fingers.

"Yes," Hermione said, her voice muffled. "She knew about the time that Ginny…"

Mrs. Weasley tensed, her hand paused in mid-air.

"She knew." And Hermione left it at that.

Mrs. Weasley resumed stroking her hair, more gently now. "Where is Padma now?"

Hermione sat up and pressed her palms to her eyes. They were swollen and itchy from crying. "I don't know. I didn't see her. I should have asked. but I didn't think…"

"You can't think of everything all of the time, especially considering the circumstances," Mrs. Weasley said. She waved her wand in front of Hermione's face.

Gradually, the itching stopped and the swelling went down. Hermione removed her hands. Her vision had cleared, the blurriness of her tears gone. She gave Mrs. Weasley a grateful smile.

"Thanks."

"Where have you been all this time?"

Hermione's head snapped up. "What?"

"You've been gone for a week, dear."

Hermione felt her stomach lurch. "A _week_?"

"You don't remember?"

Her voice came out in a rush. "No! I thought I was just there one night! I need…" She looked around, searching for what she knew wasn't there. "I need a wand! I have to talk with Harry and Ron! The mission! We need to —"

Mrs. Weasley caught Hermione's hands and pressed them down to her lap. Hermione’s panic must have shown in her eyes. Mrs. Weasley gave her hands a light squeeze. "You _need_ to rest. Why don't you just lie down—"

"No, let me finish." Hermione felt like she would start crying again. She had already started her story and didn't want to have to rehash the events of the night—of the _week_ — again. "Please." Mrs. Weasley said nothing; she just pursed her lips and nodded.

"They brought me to Malfoy Manor."

Mrs. Weasley's eyes widened in surprise, but she didn't comment. The Order had thought the Manor to be abandoned.

"Did they hurt you?"

Hermione looked down at her hands. "No, it wasn't like that. I…" She wasn't sure how much she should tell, or how much she wanted to.

"Did they… Force you?" Mrs. Weasley’s tone was too light, feigning much more nonchalance than she must have felt.

Hermione closed her eyes as she remembered Draco's tongue curling back into his mouth when he first tasted her blood, and the look in his eyes. Unbidden, images came to her: Draco kissing her, licking her, biting her, fucking her. His moans of ecstasy as she drank from him echoed in her ears. She opened her eyes to see Mrs. Weasley searching her face again.

"I… No. Not really. It's… Complicated."

Mrs. Weasley's eyes hardened, and the grip on her hands tightened slightly. Hermione swallowed. She had to tell them about Draco. They needed to know, and she couldn't risk their ignorance harming them one day.

"No, Mrs. Weasley, really. He didn't… He let me go. He brought me back safely to the Hogwarts’ Portkey."

"Who did, dear?"

She felt her voice constrict around his name. "Draco Malfoy."

Mrs. Weasley knitted her brows in concern. Hermione pulled her hands back.

"Draco Malfoy?"

"He's a vampire now."

"You can't be serious!" Mrs. Weasley gasped.

"And a very strong wizard. The change has amplified his magic. He performs non-verbal spells, _wandlessly_ _,_ with more ease and power than we do with wands."

She looked incredulous. "How is that even possible? I thought if a wizard turned into a vampire—"

"I don't know, but I've seen it. He's powerful."

"Then why hasn't he been fighting?"

Hermione looked pleadingly into Mrs. Weasley's disbelieving eyes. "The Death Eaters weren't aware, and he didn't let them know. I've been telling everyone all these years: Draco doesn't care for their cause; it was only his parents he worried about."

"What has he been doing for them?"

"What would a vampire do as a Death Eater? Torturing, executing… I don't rightly know. I don't think I want to."

"Is that why you were brought to him?"

Hermione nodded and looked at her hands.

"But instead of killing you, he let you go," Mrs. Weasley said, searching Hermione's face. Hermione nodded again, wordlessly.

"Then why have you been crying, dear? What did he do to you? Did he..."

Hermione took a deep breath and looked into Mrs. Weasley's sympathetic eyes.

"He…" Hermione hiccupped, and a sob broke through. She couldn't keep it in anymore. "He left!" Mrs. Weasley looked surprised, not expecting that answer but drawing her into a warm embrace just the same.

"He… left?"

She spoke through her tears. "I tried to persuade him to come to our side, to fight with us. I thought he would! But he said he didn't think he'd be able to control himself. He thought that he would…" Her shoulders heaved with another sob. "And now, he's _gone!_ " Her voice cracked, and tears streamed down her face anew. Mrs. Weasley tightened her hold and slowly rocked her.

"Shhh," Mrs. Weasley said. "Hush, now."

She held her until Hermione's sobs weakened and the tears stopped coming. They sat in silence for a few minutes before Mrs. Weasley spoke again. "You'd best get to bed. You'll feel stronger tomorrow after a good rest. Let's get you out of that uniform."

Hermione stood up and started undressing herself, placing the Slytherin tie on her nightstand. She felt like a ragdoll as Mrs. Weasley began tugging on her sleeves, hurrying the process along. She glanced around for her nightclothes and smiled gratefully as they were pressed into her hands.

"Are you sure you don't want anything to eat?" She could see Mrs. Weasley checking her body surreptitiously for bruises as she pulled the plaid flannel nightshirt over her head.

Hermione shook her head. "No, thanks."

After slipping on her pajamas, Hermione crawled under the blankets. Mrs. Weasley kissed her forehead.

"I won't tell them about that last part," she whispered, giving Hermione a pitying look and turning towards the bedroom door.

"Thank you," Hermione whispered back.

She opened the door, and Hermione could see Ron and Harry straining to see past Mrs. Weasley's plump frame into the bedroom’s darkness. Mrs. Weasley closed the door, which was immediately followed by mutinous shouting. Hermione smiled at their insistence on seeing her. It was good to know that she was loved so deeply, but she just couldn't deal with Harry and Ron right now. Mrs. Weasley seemed to understand that.

As she drifted off to sleep, she heard snippets of conversation travel up from the kitchen.

"Padma did _what?_ "

"—blamed her for Parvati—"

"—a bloody _vampire_?"

"Watch your language! You're not so old that I won't—"

Hermione turned to look out the window.

"—let her go?"

"—not sure what he did to her—"

"—how vampires are Molly, don't be naïve."

As her eyes slowly drifted shut, she thought she saw a hooded figure standing on the rooftop of the adjacent house.

"—don't think she remembers—"

"—smells different."

It was dark, and she was tired. Her eyes must have been playing tricks on her. She pulled the green and silver tie that Draco had given her off the nightstand and held it close as she drifted off to sleep.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Harry and Ron sat on her bed, having brought breakfast up to her. Or maybe it was lunch. The sun looked to be fairly high in the sky. Harry studied her, trying to see if her expressions would reveal what Mrs. Weasley had left out, or what Hermione wouldn't say. They thought she couldn't remember everything. She had heard them discussing her in the kitchen. They were trying to figure out exactly what had happened to her. She felt like she was under a microscope.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked for the third time.

"I'm _fine_ , Harry," she said, trying and failing to keep the annoyance out of her voice.

Ron glanced at Harry, an I-told-you-so look on his face.

"Can we get you anything?" Ron asked cautiously.

Hermione gave a tired sigh. "Food and rest should be enough. Thanks."

"Are you sure you're not in pain? We have plenty of potions and salves. You're not wounded, are you?"

His eyes slipped furtively to her neck, where her hair was pulled back. If Draco hadn't healed her wounds so proficiently, the bite marks would be clearly seen. At least Ron had the decency to blush when she caught him searching.

"No, not wounded. Would you feel better if I was?" Ron's face fell, and she immediately regretted her snappish words.

"Come on, Hermione," Harry chastised her. "We care about you. We know you've been though a lot, but you don't have to be such a…" His voice trailed off.

"Bitch?" she said with a half grin.

“Yes,” he said with a sheepish smile and pushed his glasses up his nose. “But you’re _our_ bitch,” he clarified warmly.

Hermione understood it as a term of endearment, a full acceptance of her pragmatism, which admittedly bordered on ruthlessness sometimes.

“Stuff it,” she replied with a quirk of her lips. "Look. Harry, Ron, I'm sorry. It's just… Can we _please_ discuss something _important?_ The diadem, for example?"

"Destroyed," Ron answered, struggling to keep his bright blue eyes on her face instead of her neck. "But we had a hell of a time doing it without you."

She sipped her tea. "And you confirmed the cup is in the Lestrange vault?"

"It's in the vault alright," Harry said. His eyes shifted up from her neck. He had been looking when he thought she hadn't been paying attention. "But there was no time to plan the break in. We were busy."

Hermione raised her eyebrows.

"Searching for you and Padma," he continued.

"Oh," she said quietly, and then gave them a small smile. It was good to know that they could still function without her; they often didn't give themselves enough credit. "That's good. When will Bill get here? We'll need his help to break into Gringotts."

"He said he'll be here tonight," Ron said, continuing cautiously, "Are you sure you're up for this?"

"Yes." Hermione tried to keep the annoyance out of her voice. She noticed that Ron and Harry were fidgeting more than usual. Not a good sign. Their restraint was failing.

Ron continued, despite her tone. "He has all of the floor plans and an interactive map of the caverns below that he got from one of his Goblin contacts."

Hermione nodded while swallowing some scrambled eggs. "That's good. I'd hate to get lost down there. Those tunnels go on for miles."

She had just raised another forkful to her mouth when Ron suddenly blurted out, "Did he drink from you?"

Her hand paused, and then lowered, the fork clinking against the plate. She sighed and closed her eyes to gather her composure. When she opened them again, both Harry and Ron were staring at her, not letting her off the hook.

"Yes."

Ron's eyes flashed in anger, and his hands balled into fists. Harry swallowed and continued the query. "And did he—"

"Look," she said, cutting him off. "He's a vampire. That's what vampires do. He drank from me, he healed me, and then he let me go. He's not truly on their side; he never has been. I've been telling you that all along. And I…I…" She didn't want to start crying again, so she summoned a tone of reprimand, hoping she didn't sound too defensive. "I _really_ don't want to talk about it anymore."

Ron glared daggers at her. Frustrating as they were, she knew it came from the protective love that the three felt towards each other. They had been through so much together. She brought her eyes to Harry, who observed her with an odd expression, one that unsettled her more than Ron's anger.

She supposed that they would more or less guess what had happened. Ron would be in denial for a while, not quite thinking beyond getting revenge. But Harry? He knew. She could see it in his eyes. They had studied vampires in Defence Against the Dark Arts. She shifted uncomfortably on her bed; Harry's gaze made her queasy. She could deal with Ron's anger, but she couldn't sit here with Harry looking at her like that.

She climbed out of bed and headed for the bathroom.

"I'm going out for a walk."

Ron piped up. "Do you want us to—"

"No," she snapped. She stopped at the doorway and took a steadying breath. "No, thank you," she said with genuine contriteness. She turned around to look at her two best friends. They were only trying to help her, to support her. "I'll see you this evening when Bill comes."

Ron and Harry watched Hermione as she exited the room and shut the bathroom door behind her. A few minutes later, they heard her turn on the shower.

Ron stared at the doorway, and then exhaled sharply through his nose. "Harry, I'm going to kill him."

"He's already dead," Harry quipped.

"Not dead enough."


	13. Chapter 13 - Alternate ending

**Chapter 13 – Alternate ending**

Hermione’s mind wandered to Draco as she studied the tunnel plans for Gringotts in front of her. She thought he was dead, and was suddenly confronted with the fact that he was alive, but a vampire. A vampire who was in love with her. He rescued her from torture and death, and then left. She had no way of knowing if he would return, had no idea how to contact him, and didn’t know if she would ever see him again.

She remembered the first time they met in battle as if it were yesterday.

He could never stay.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

_Hermione was panting for breath, hiding, back pressed against the bark of a tree, and quickly cast a Silencing Charm around herself after failing to Apparate. Three months after Bill and Fleur’s wedding, their safe house had been compromised: their Secret Keeper was captured and tortured. Unfortunately, the Death Eaters had cast anti-Apparation wards in preparation for the raid._

_She hoped the others had managed to reach the emergency Portkeys in time. She had been out for an evening walk when the raid started and after an unsuccessful Apparition attempt, had run to the adjacent woods, hoping to reach the wards’ perimeter. She was afraid to summon a Portkey from inside the house, lest she endanger someone else’s chance of getting away._

_The Portkey evacuation plan had been her idea in case of an event such as this. Ironically, she hadn’t been able to use it._

_Hermione had already felled two of the three Death Eaters who’d been chasing her, sending slicing hexes to their throats. They wouldn’t recover. She had hoped the urgency of their wounds would force the third Death Eater to stop and heal them. The extra time would have enabled her to escape. But her third pursuer hadn’t bothered._

_The distant animalistic sounds made her worry that it was Fenrir Greyback tracking her. He would have an advantage in the dark and could move silently, quickly, and undetected, unlike regular wizards. He would see her movements easily, even if she were Disillusioned. He could probably smell her, too._

_Casting a disorienting charm, which she’d learned after Harry had experienced it during the third TriWizard Tournament task, bought her some time. But not much._

_Pure terror engulfed her body at the thought of him hunting her. If caught, he would violently rape and eat her. Or he would take her to be tortured, questioned, and killed. She didn’t know which fate was worse._

_Hermione had no idea how far she had to run to reach the wards’ limits, but whatever the distance, Greyback was undoubtedly faster. Hexing while running gave her position away, and casting over her shoulder or behind her back was inaccurate, anyway. The only way she had been able to hit the other two Death Eaters was by hiding patiently under a Disillusionment Charm and taking careful aim. And even that had cost her, giving Greyback time to evade and close in on her. If she hadn’t cast the disorienting charm, she likely would have been caught already._

_She quelled her rising panic and considered her options. Looking skyward, Hermione wondered if Levitating herself up into the tree branches would be preferable. From a high perch, she could lie in wait and hex Greyback as soon as he came into view. She didn’t know if he would attack her with his wand or physically. Either way, her chances in the tree were better than running._

_She pointed her wand at herself._ “Wingardium Leviosa!”

_Slowly, she began to rise. Too slowly. She willed her magic to raise her faster, just as Greyback ran into her peripheral vision. He leapt up into the air. She tried to pull her legs up out of his reach, but he caught her ankle. Roughly, he yanked her down to the ground._

“Incend—” 

_He knocked her wand away before she could complete the spell and tackled her. His body was heavy, pressing her down to the ground while he held her wrists at her sides. She couldn’t move; he was too strong, and her wand was too far away to reach. All she could see were his dark eyes, glittering with hunger._

_“Potter’s Mudblood whore,” he growled in pleasure. “I’m allowed to have fun with you first.” He licked her cheek, and her stomach heaved_ _in disgust. His saliva_ _was cool against her skin as he pulled away, and Hermione clenched her eyes shut. His head dipped to her neck. “Your fear smells as ripe as you are.”_

_She gritted her teeth and whimpered as he pressed his erection into her._

_In addition to dueling, Tonks had insisted that everyone new to the Order learn self-defense, much like Aurors did. But Hermione’s mind went blank with terror, and her heart thudded in her chest. She knew they had practiced this position, but she was paralyzed by fear. With the way Greyback’s sharp fingernails dug into her wrists and the press of his body on hers, there was no place to move anyway._

_He lifted himself off her and released her right wrist to unbuckle his belt. The sound of clinking metal jogged her memory. She’d practiced this scenario repeatedly, first with Harry and then with George. They’d both unbuckled their belts._

_Suddenly, she knew what to do._

_With a shriek, Hermione brought her knee up to Greyback’s crotch, using as much strength as she could muster. She couldn’t get much leverage, but it was enough._

_Greyback grunted in pain, and his grip on her left wrist loosened. Immediately, she shifted her left arm, straightening it above her head. He tried to grab her wrist more tightly but was pulled along instead. Destabilized by her movement, he fell on top of her. But that was exactly where she wanted him now._

_With her right hand, Hermione latched onto the shell of his ear, digging her fingers into his flesh. She ripped it off with a desperate cry_ _. He released her wrist immediately and reared back onto his knees, howling while he clutched the bloody orifice. Body buzzing with adrenaline, Hermione turned around to scramble out from between his legs. Her target: her wand._

_“Bitch!”_

_He grabbed her calf and dragged her back toward him. Sticks and leaves scraped her stomach as her shirt slid up. Hermione kicked at his jaw but missed. He grabbed her foot mid-air, twisted her body around with a grunt, and slammed her back onto the ground again. His blood dripped on her face and chest as he loomed over her._

_“You’ll pay for that!” he growled, gnashing his teeth. He wrapped his hands around her neck._

_Repressing the reflex to grab at his hands around her throat, she reached up to clutch the sides of his face, pressing her thumbs into his eyes. But before she could gouge them out, he jerked his head back out of her reach. He was too quick. His arms too long._

_“You’re a violent cunt, eh?” He sneered as she gasped for air and found none. Even though she knew it wouldn’t do any good, she frantically clawed at his hands and bucked her body. She was going to die. Her vision blurred around the edges as his grip tightened._

_Then, she saw another Death Eater looming behind Greyback. She had no chance. Panicked, she clawed and kicked and flailed, desperately trying to breathe as the Death Eater pointed his wand at her._

“Stupefy!”

_The red light hit the werewolf square in his back. He collapsed on top of her, unconscious._

_Hermione pried his hands off her neck and gasped a shuddering breath, but the dead weight of his body on her chest made her feel like she still couldn’t breathe. She panicked again, heaving against his heavy, limp body, trying to get away. The standing Death Eater placed his heavy boot on Greyback’s side and pushed him off with one thrust of his leg._

_Not knowing why the Death Eater chose to incapacitate one of his own, Hermione stayed in survival mode. She dove for her wand. Clutching onto it for dear life, she rolled and sent several rapid- fire stunners in the Death Eater’s direction. Each deflected with a deft wand movement, despite the almost point-blank distance._

_“Granger! Stop!” The Death Eater ripped off his mask and hood, revealing the outline of a tall male figure with blond hair. “It’s me!”_

_She lay on the ground with her wand out, eyes wide, breath coming in shallow pants._

_Malfoy._

_He had saved her from Greyback but invaded her safe house, maybe killed or captured her friends. He had saved her life back at Hogwarts in Sixth Year but let the Death Eaters in to kill Dumbledore. She couldn’t make sense of his intentions, and his wand was held at the ready. He stepped forward. She reflexively sent another stunner, which he again deflected. Her heart thudded in her chest._

_“It’s me! Look! I’ll stay here. Take my wand, yeah?” Warily, she watched him flip his wand and hold the handle out to her. Slowly, still trembling, still gasping, she rose to her feet, wand trained at his heart._

_“Expelliarmus,” she rasped. Her throat burned from the pressure of Greyback’s fingers. His wand flew to her. She swiped it from the air with her left hand without letting her own aim waver. He surrendered himself to her. She wanted to trust him, but her head was pounding so hard she couldn’t think._

_“On your knees. Hands on your head.” Her chest heaved; she was still gasping for breath, sucking in air with frequent, deep gulps. She felt dizzy. Her vision clouded._

_“Granger! I—”_

_“On your knees, Malfoy!” She yelled as loud as her voice would go. Her chest tightened. She couldn’t get enough air._

_Slowly, Draco sank to the ground and put his hands on his head while she cautiously approached. Feeling lightheaded, she struggled to walk straight. Her fingers tingled and began to feel numb. Her breaths were deep and shaky._

_“Granger,” he said carefully as she approached him. “You’re safe.” He moved his hand as if to reach out to her, but drew back when she gripped the wands more tightly. Her hands felt clammy. “Hermione. It’s me. I won’t hurt you.”_

_“Draco?” She wanted to trust him. She did. But wanting wasn’t enough of a reason. And yet he had saved her. The forest swam around her, and her heart continued to race, banging against her ribcage. She was going to vomit._

_“It’s Draco,” he repeated. “Hermione. You’re safe. I won’t hurt you. You know that.”_

_She nodded and looked into his bright, grey eyes. He stared up at her, worried. He had just saved her from Greyback and surrendered. She concentrated on that fact. He had surrendered. He was a Death Eater, but she could trust him._

_His broad shoulders relaxed in relief as Hermione lowered the wands, still gasping for air. His blond hair was longer from when she had last seen him at Hogwarts during Sixth Year. His eyes were the same, though: full of quiet suffering and barely repressed emotion._

_She wobbled on her legs, and her vision blurred._

_Slowly, Draco reached out to steady her waist._

_“You’re hyperventilating. Come here.”_

_Hermione was going to pass out soon. She allowed him to pull her down on top of him as he sat on the forest floor. He cradled her into his robes. She heard his heart beating, strong and steady._

_“You have to steady your breathing. Breathe with me. Slow.” His gloved hand cupped the back of her head, and he massaged her scalp through her hair. She tried to match the pace of his breaths, to inhale when he inhaled, to exhale when he exhaled. Bit by bit, the panic from her frenzied struggle for survival with Greyback seeped from her bones._

_“That’s it.” His low voice rumbled in his chest. “Now breathe in and hold it for a few seconds. Breathe out. Yes.” She was soothed by his warmth and his scent. It brought back memories of kissing him in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom in Sixth Year. The muscles of his arms flexed around her back as he pressed her closer to his chest. His thumb rubbed her shoulder blade through the back of her shirt._

_Delicately, he pulled on his wand, extracting it from her fingers. He made a few motions, muttering warding spells under his breath._

_“We’re safe for now,” he explained, “but they’ll comb the grounds after they’re done searching the house. Keep breathing slowly.”_

_The dizziness subsided, and Hermione her heart beat slowed to a normal pace. Her fingers no longer felt numb. She flexed them. He kissed her forehead tenderly, and she heard leaves rustle in the gentle night breeze._

_“Better?” he asked softly. She looked up into his eyes. The concern reflected there made her stomach flutter. She nodded silently._

_“What of…” her throat constricted in pain; it was still difficult to talk. “What of the others?” She didn’t know if the rest of the Order in her safe house managed to evacuate. “Did you see?”_

_“So far no one was captured. An Irish bloke took a hit to the leg but made it out.” Hermione felt a surge of relief in that no one was captured and pride in that her Portkey evacuation plan had worked. She didn’t ask if he was the one that hit Seamus. She didn’t want to know._

_After a few seconds of Draco holding her on his lap, Greyback stirred. The two acted reflexively._

“Bombarda!” _Her throat felt like fire when she yelled._

“Crucio!” _Draco’s deep voice thundered next to her ear._

_Greyback’s body flew into a tree after Hermione’s spell, and the werewolf bucked and screamed as the Cruciatis curse wracked his body. Draco’s face was lit from the red glow as he held Greyback under the curse. Draco struggled to stand as he focused on Greyback’s writhing body, the screams growing in intensity. She raised herself to standing as well and watched Draco’s jaw clench while he held the curse. He ground his teeth, and she saw his tears glow red as they seeped from the corners of his eyes._

_She debated stopping the curse, but suddenly, there was no need for decision. Greyback’s screaming stopped, the werewolf having passed out from extended torture. Draco suppressed a cry and bent over with his hand on his knee, breathing heavily. Silently, he swiped away his tears and dried his glove on his robe._

_Hermione was surprised, not sure what to make of what she had just seen. From what she knew of Draco, he was far from a sadist and didn’t hurt anyone unnecessarily. He didn’t appear to get any enjoyment out of what he had just done to the werewolf. Quite the opposite. But there was no other reason she could think of for his actions right now._

_“He’s vile,” she commented with concern, “but that seemed unnecessary.”_

_His voice cracked slightly with an emotion she couldn’t identify_ _and he turned to her, unsure of what to say. His eyes were slightly bloodshot from his tears and the effort casting the curse required. She could see the faintest traces of embarrassment on his carved features. “You’re not the only one he’s...” He turned his face to the side in revulsion_ _._

 _Hermione’s blood ran cold, and her eyes widened in horror as she understood the implications of his broken explanation. Was this how Voldemort treated those that fought_ for _him? How could Draco stay? How could he continue to function with this going on? How could he be on a raid with the very filth that was violating him in that way? She brushed the hair from his eyes and cupped his jaw, turning his face back to hers._

_“Enough of this. Come back with me,” she pleaded, her voice firm. “You don’t belong with them.”_

_“I can’t,” Draco croaked. He lowered his head, dejected. “Nothing’s changed.”_

_“Bring your parents,” she continued, undeterred._

_“They won’t come.”_

_“They won’t come even though,” she gestured disgustedly into Greyback’s direction, “_ this _is going on?”_

_She had no doubt that, despite being employed in Voldemort’s service, the Malfoys loved their son, just as he loved them. She couldn’t believe his mother and father would allow this to happen to him. They could all get out. She would help them hide._

_He ran his hand through his hair and shook his head. “They don’t know. We’re being watched.” He stared down at her, clearly ashamed but pleading with her to understand. “I’m the one who has to...” He flicked his eyes downward in defeat, unable to meet her gaze for a moment before looking up at her defiantly. “I won’t let them hurt my mother.”_

_She felt an overwhelming sense of rage. These people were evil. Draco had sacrificed himself so that his mother wouldn’t suffer. But of course he did. That’s what happened Sixth Year as well. A feeling of helplessness overtook her, and she wanted to wail and beat Greyback’s body into a bloody pulp. She started shaking and eyed the werewolf, lying broken and damaged against a tree. She couldn’t allow this to happen anymore. She_ wouldn’t _. This was going to end now. With primal scream, she turned in fury and raised her wand to Greyback’s crumpled body._

“Avada Kedavra!”

_There was an unfamiliar sensation of her hatred and magic blending together and expanding with power. It crackled through her body and funneled into her wand. For a fleeting second, Hermione felt invincible, like she could burst and kill anyone around her. She exhaled through her teeth and the green light shot from her wand, illuminating Draco’s shocked face and blasting into the werewolf._

_After the curse left her body, left her wand, she still felt the residue of the hate and sheer magical power coursing through her. Her fingers twitched, and she panted as tiny tingles of power dissipated from her body._

_Draco stared, but she didn’t lower her wand or shift her gaze from Greyback’s body. She wiped away the sweat that had appeared on her forehead. After a few moments of silence, Draco spoke._

_“He’s vile, but that seemed unnecessary.” He gingerly clasped her extended forearm with his gloved hand and pulled her towards him._

_She stumbled over her feet, allowing him to bring her in close for an embrace. He cupped her chin and turned her face away from Greyback to look at him. Surprise and worry graced his features. Pursing her lips in determination, she countered, “Oh no. That was_ absolutely _necessary.”_

_He studied her pensively, unsure of what to say. “That was your first time?”_

_She nodded, still a bit dazed from the surge of power._

_“You’ve never practiced on animals_ _?”_

_She felt like she’d been slapped. Is that how Draco got started? “I couldn’t kill an animal like that. There’s no hate to draw from.”_

_He lowered his voice to a whisper. “You could have taken him as a prisoner.”_

_After a few seconds, Hermione shook her head. “We have a holding area for prisoners, but we don’t have the means to contain and isolate a werewolf effectively from the others.”_

_“Is that what you were thinking when you killed him?”_

_“No,” she swallowed. “I wasn’t thinking at all.”_

_He nodded slowly in understanding and brought her hands to his lips. “Don’t kill like that. Channeling your hatred into your magic will change you. You know what you felt.”_

_Powerful. Excited. Thrilled. Hatred was more familiar and would be easier to channel next time, she knew._

_Next time._

_She shuddered. She was already anticipating the next time. Draco was right: that kind of magic was dangerous._

_“You just Crucio’d him,” she observed weakly._

_Draco had the humility to look embarrassed. “Do as I say, not as I do. He wasn’t the first I’ve Crucio’d, although this was the first time I’ve been so effective. You don’t have to use Unforgivables, I do. They will change you. That’s why the Dark Lord insists we use them. Keep slicing throats.”_

_She looked up at him questioningly. “Have you ever…” She knew he couldn’t kill Dumbledore, but skirmishes were different. And who knew what Voldemort had his followers do to prisoners? She didn’t think she wanted to know what he had done._

_He shook his head. “I don’t hate the people I’m supposed to kill, and I can’t kill the people I hate_ _. It’s one of the reasons I’m always watched.”_

_She nodded. Tenderly, Draco brought his hand to her face, running two fingers down from her cheek to her throat. “Let’s have a look at you.” He pulled down her collar and delicately tilted her head to the side to expose her neck. Her eyes briefly fluttered closed as his gloved fingers brushed against her skin. She leaned into his touch. He took his wand and cast a Lumos, examining her throat and neck, and hissed when he saw the scratches and bruises there._

_“Where else?” he asked, his voice tense._

_She held out her hands, and he removed his gloves, biting the fingers with his teeth and pulling them off with a jerk of his head. He shoved them into his robes and ran a thumb over the clawed indentations in her wrists, which had already stopped bleeding. Her skin tingled at his touch._

_“Shine a light, will you?”_

_Hermione illuminated her wand and held it over her wrist while he muttered a few cleansing and healing charms. His fingers probed and rubbed her skin, and she watched his face while he concentrated on casting the healing spells. She felt warm both from the comfort and the desire his touch brought. Shadows played across the bones of his jaw, cheeks, and nose from her wand’s dim light . His blond fringe, longer than she was used to_ _, glinted in the wandlight._

_She brushed the blond hair falling in front of his eyes behind his ear while he worked. His gaze flicked to hers briefly, and then returned to her wrist. He noticed she had been watching him. She thought she saw the corner of his mouth quirk upwards. When he finished, he smiled shyly at her and said, “Open the collar of your shirt, I’ll see better.”_

_Hermione blushed, remembering their kiss almost a year ago in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. She undid a few buttons and pulled the collar open for him, exposing her upper chest and the bra straps on her shoulders. He sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, flicked his eyes up to hers, then refocused on the task at hand, repeating the same procedures that he had done on her wrists. His deft fingers ghosted over her skin while he muttered spells. Gingerly, he tilted her head to different angles to expose her neck, and moved the curls of her hair to the side. He was much closer to her now, and his hot breath tickled the skin of her collarbone, her neck, and her jaw, making her skin tingle. His hand cradled the back of her neck and stayed there while he worked on a particularly nasty bruise. She closed her eyes and hummed in contentment._

_After a few moments, she realized that he had stopped. She opened her eyes and saw that he was watching her, his grey eyes molten in the wand light. She flushed, her skin heating up under his gaze. His hand dropped from the back of her neck, and cold replaced its warm_ _presence._

_“I don’t know who enjoyed that more, me or you?” A smirk played across his lips. His voice lowered slightly. “Anywhere else that needs healing?”_

_She smiled at his suggestive tone but shook her head. “Thank you. You saved my life.”_

_“My pleasure.” Draco’s voice was husky, and he lifted her chin with his knuckle. The heated gaze he gave her caused a coil of tension to form in her belly._

_“Twice now,” she added, her eyes falling to his lips._

_“And you’ve saved mine,” he whispered, motioning to Greyback’s corpse._

_His lips were so close. She swallowed. “Won’t you be caught?”_

_He could have killed Greyback at any time on a mission. He could have done it now instead of merely stunning him. Raids were the perfect opportunity to kill someone on your own side_ _. Had she endangered Draco with her actions?_

_He looked over at the werewolf’s dead body again for several seconds, and then his eyes centered back on hers. “They know I hate him,” he said with a thin lipped smile. “You’ll have to cast a slicing hex at me like the other two you did.”_

_Hermione winced. She felt sick at the idea of hurting him , but that was the price to pay for Greyback’s death. He squeezed her fingers in understanding._

_“To make it believable, you’ll have to. Maybe several, since I’m fast. Just… Do it shallow.” She sucked in a breath. “After that, knock me out and add a leg-locker jinx. They’ll find me when they sweep the area.” He peered into the forest. “If the anti-Apparition wards aren’t already down, you’ve got another 50 meters to go till the edge.”_

_“That’s all?” she asked, surprised. She had been so close!_

_“Yeah.” His voice rose in admiration. “Three on your tail, and you almost got out_ _.”_

_Hermione looked down at his lips again and wondered if he was thinking about their kiss last year, if he wanted to kiss her again. If he could even stomach it after what Greyback had been doing to him._

_As if in answer to her question, Draco’s eyes glittered as he slowly closed in on her mouth. Her heart pounded in her chest again and her insides fluttered. From the look on his face, he felt the same. He stepped forward, narrowing the remaining few inches between them. Her heart sped up and heat slowly spread between her legs, both from his proximity and the anticipation of what he would do._

_He pressed his thumb lightly, softly into her lower lip, still unsure. A question. In response, she reached up and laced her hands through his hair to draw him towards her. He leaned into her, cupping her jaw and tilting her face up towards him. His hand slid around her waist to her lower back, pressing her into his tall, hard body as his lips found hers in the darkness. He was hard, warm, and strong, but his hands and his tongue were slow, gentle, and deliberate._

_Draco breathed a small moan into her mouth, and her hands clenched his hair tightly. She’d give anything to hear him make that sound again. She sighed, desperately exploring his mouth with her tongue, inhaling his smell. His tongue pushed hers back and entered her mouth, and his hand tightened against her waist. Then it drifted down to her rear, where he pressed her pelvis into his._

_She felt how hard he was, even through his robes. He held her against his erection while his tongue explored_ _her mouth, moving_ _against hers. With a slight growl, he paused, and then slowly pulled away, holding her still. She looked at him: hair tousled, eyes bright, cheeks flushed, and tried to bring him closer, craving the contact. He didn’t budge, so she leaned upward, straining to kiss his face. He let out series of barely audible whimpers as her lips ghosted his skin._

_“How long?” she whispered between the tender kisses she placed on his lips, his chin, his jaw. She wished he would keep kissing her, but he stayed still, a slight trembling in his arms being the only indication of how deeply he was affected by her touch._

_“Not long.” He breathed his answer into her mouth. He looked back towards the direction of the raided safe house. “You should hex me and leave.”_

_Her stomach dropped at his words, but she knew he was right. She wanted to stay with him forever like this._

_Her voice was soft. She tried, but couldn’t keep the pleading tone out of it. “Can you hold me just a little bit longer?”_

_He took a slow, deep, shuddering breath and rested his forehead on hers. “Always_ _.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had some extremely long chapters so I broke them up. The story will now be 19 chapters instead of 17. Enjoy!


	14. Chapter 14 - Alternate ending

**Chapter 14 – Alternate ending**

Hermione stared at the rolls of parchment on the table, along with Bill, Ron, and Harry. She had been resting her head in her hand and shifted positions. Harry eyed the red print she left on her cheek with amusement.

"Did Lavender slap you again?"

"Piss off."

Ron snorted, and she gave him a withering glare, which did nothing to curtail his laughter. She didn't exactly remember how their drunken game of Exploding Snap had descended into her and Lavender wrestling on the ground those months ago, but neither Harry nor Ron had attempted to stop the cat-fight. Rather, they had taken bets on who would win.

_Wankers._

She didn't remember who had won, and neither one would tell her who they had bet on. One of these days, she was going to find out. That would be a justified use of their Veritaserum stores, wouldn't it?

"Let's get back to work, shall we?" Bill interrupted. "I don't have a lot of time. Unless…" he raised an eyebrow at Hermione, "you want to invite Lavender over. That might be worth—"

"It was _two_ months ago. Can't you let—"

Bill turned to Harry and Ron, cutting her off. "You don't know how much I wish I would've been here."

Ron smirked at him. "Best. Night. Ever."

"One more word and I'll slap the three of _you._ "

"Would you now?" Ron taunted her cockily. "You're a bit short."

Harry and Bill snickered.

Hermione smiled sweetly. "Who said I was going to slap your face?"

The snickering turned into guffaws.

"So that's how you keep these two in line, eh?" Bill elbowed Ron in the ribs.

"Oi! We don't—"

"If you ask me,” Hermione answered Bill saucily, “they enjoy a firm hand."

"That's what she said."

"That's what _Lavender_ said."

And so the jibes continued.

It was their fourth night poring over the plans into the wee hours of the morning. Even with Bill's help, they still had several points where they would not be able to break through, and that was assuming that the Horcrux itself wasn't guarded. They were frustrated, but also motivated by the impending destruction of the sixth Horcrux. Joking around relieved the tension somewhat, and helped distract Hermione from her loss.

"Remus?" Tonks called from the foyer.

"Yes?" he answered, jogging down the stairs. Hermione scribbled a few notes on the side of the Gringotts’ map. Harry and Bill were arguing over how best to get around the dragon and wondering if it might be helpful to bring Charlie in for a consultation.

Ron was making a parchment aeroplane.

"Someone is standing outside against the lamppost. Has been there for about thirty minutes."

Hermione looked up and met Harry's green eyes, feeling the faintest bits of panic. Had they been discovered?

"I'm fairly sure he's a vampire," Tonks continued, eyeing Hermione.

Her pulse raced with nervous excitement. Quickly, she got up to look out the window, Harry and Ron right on her heels.

Lupin was already at the window, studying the figure with narrowed eyes. "So that's what I smelled earlier…" His eyes swiveled to Hermione, studying her for a few seconds. She flushed under his gaze, and then he turned back to the window.

"He followed you back, Hermione," Harry said, accusingly.

"He couldn't have. I used the Hogwarts Portkey. It wouldn't have worked for him."

"But didn't you say he was more powerful now?" Lupin asked. "Might it be possible?"

Hermione stared at the figure. "I don't know. I don't know what his limits are. I don't know if _he_ knows what his limits are."

"Why doesn't he just come in?" Ron asked. "Does he have to be invited?"

Hermione scoffed. "Where did you ever hear something like that?"

He muttered something about Muggle vampire shows on the telly.

“Clearly you’ve done quality research,” she smiled sarcastically.

Ron ignored the barb. He shrugged in answer and said, "Why doesn't he knock? Why not come to the door? Why wait by the lamp post?"

Hermione chewed her lip. "Maybe because of the Fidelius Charm, he can't see the house."

Lupin nodded. "That makes sense. And yet he knows where it is. How is that possible?"

Hermione tried to get a glimpse of Draco's face, but his hood covered his features. "He's related to the Blacks, isn't he?"

Ron snorted. "All the Pure-bloods are related if you go back far enough."

"But how would he know that _we're_ here?" Harry countered.

"I don't know," she said, puzzled. "But he's found us out. I'll go see what he wants."

Harry pulled her back and shook his head. "Not by yourself, even if he's not one of them."

"I've been surveying the block all night," Tonks added. "He's alone."

"So it appears," Lupin agreed, scanning their surroundings and performing the _Homenum revelio_ charm.

Tonks quirked an eyebrow. "I tried. That doesn't detect vampires."

Lupin looked out the window in interest. "Apparently not."

Hermione wrenched her arm out of Harry's grip. "Honestly, Harry. I've got a wand now. I'm not defenseless!"

Harry spoke more softly, trying to calm her down. "I just don't want—"

"You're all here if I need help. He's not likely to be as forthcoming if you lot are with me." It was true, but she also wanted to see Draco alone.

Ron protested. "What if he hurts you?"

She rounded on him. "I've already been kidnapped. What would be the point in doing so again? He could have hurt me already, but—" She felt her throat constrict involuntarily and could barely get the rest of her sentence out. "But he hasn't. Why would he do so now? He already had his chance to get information from me."

Harry narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth to argue, but she cut him off. "You need to be calm around vampires so that _they_ stay calm. You don't want to excite them." Lupin nodded his assent.

"Can you do that?" She looked pointedly at Harry, who didn't answer. She turned to Ron. "You?"

"Yes," Ron answered petulantly.

Hermione rolled her eyes in answer.

Harry crossed his arms and stared down at her. "Can _you_?"

Slowly, she turned back to look up at Harry. Did he suspect her feelings? She flared her nostrils. "I'm still alive, aren't I? And I didn't even have a wand last time. Let it be, Harry."

"Go out the back." Lupin motioned with his head, not taking his eyes off Draco. "Walk around the block. Dora will tail you at a distance, and we'll be here."

"That's a fair compromise," Hermione said, glaring at Ron.

"But—" Ron tried to protest, but Lupin held up his hand. The discussion was over.

Hermione grabbed her scarf and left from the back entrance. Ron glared after her.

 _No sense in tempting Draco further_ , she thought as she wrapped it around her neck.

Her footsteps echoed on the pavement, and as she rounded the corner, she heard Tonks' footsteps far behind her. She looked at her watch. It was nearly two o'clock in the morning. The streets were deserted. Her heart thudded with excitement at the thought of seeing him again, and she took a few calming breaths when he came into view.

The figure in hooded black robes shifted and turned to her. When she was nearly ten feet away, he held out his hand. She stopped. His eyes glittered from beneath his hood.

"Wait. It's better if I come to you."

She swallowed. He was tall and intimidating in those black robes. Almost like one of _them_. "How did you know where to find me?"

His voice was low and husky as he approached. "I've always known where you were."

_He did?_

"Then why bring me back to Hogwarts?"

He flashed his teeth at her, and she thought she saw blood on them. "Because London smells of humans. Here."

So quickly that she could barely register it, a small sack with something hard inside came flying at her. With reflexes honed by battle, she caught it midair. She looked down at it curiously and then peered back up at Draco.

"I agree with Dumbledore: the last is Nagini."

_What?_

She opened the sack and pulled out the Hufflepuff Cup. It was blackened and crumpled in on itself, as if it were made of paper.

Her heart raced, and she felt a rush of adrenaline.

"How did you do that?" she exclaimed in an awed whisper. _How did he know?_

Instead of answering, he slowly closed the space between them. The bright grey of his eyes bored into hers, and he licked his lips.

"I had to see you," he said, his voice the only sound in the late of night. She turned back to see Tonks, roughly fifty feet away. She was watching them.

"That doesn't answer my..."

She felt a slight tug at the scarf on her neck and turned back to Draco, standing still as he loosened the scarf and let it flutter to the ground. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end. _Was he going to bite her?_ She didn't know, but at least she had a wand this time.

She turned her back on Draco to look at Tonks again, who didn't seem perturbed by what he'd just done.

"Draco…" she said, eyeing Tonks curiously. "How did you—"

She sucked in a breath. His fingers grasped the side of her hips and squeezed, tight and possessive. Slowly, he pulled her flush against him, and she was overwhelmed with his presence and his warmth. She inhaled his scent and closed her eyes.

"That thing was evil." His voice rumbled in her ear. "I almost couldn't destroy it."

"They affect everyone differently," she answered, doing her best to keep her voice calm. Her heart thumped wildly in her chest. She did her best to even out her breathing, but it was impossible with him so close. He excited her. She opened her eyes and glanced at the door to 12 Grimmauld Place. Why weren't they coming? And what about Tonks? She was directly facing her. Surely she could _see._

He pulled her bum against him, eliciting a small whimper from her. Her muscles tightened in anticipation. He _must_ have fed before coming to see her in order to maintain control. But he had also fed before he attacked her at the manor. She shivered and wondered what poor soul might have chanced to cross Draco's path.

His fingers traveled higher, and his left hand reached underneath the hem of her jumper. She sucked in a breath as he touched the bare skin of her stomach.

His hot breath tickled the shell of her ear. "I could feel it," he whispered as his fingers snuck up her rib cage. His thumb grazed the side of her breast. "It made me think things."

Hermione gently gripped his wrist, hard with bone, tendon, and muscle.

"Draco, wait." Tonks looked directly at them. Why wasn't she doing anything?

She tried to lower his hand, but he resisted. She shivered as his fingers teased her, slowly caressing the skin of her stomach, her rib cage, just barely reaching her breasts before descending again. Her body was tense; she dared not move. She didn't know if she should go for her wand, or stay still and hope that he remained in control of himself.

"It wanted me to do things."

His lips were grazing the outer shell of her ear with just the merest of touches.

"It wanted _me_."

"Yes," she sighed as his hand moved tantalizingly closer to her breast. Her breath hitched, but his hand dropped to her side again. "You're not the only one. Ron had trouble…"

Her voice trailed off at the feel of his hot breath swirling around her neck. Slow puffs of air tickled her as he exhaled against her skin. Her whole body tingled. She was in dangerous territory. Why hadn't Harry and Ron come out by now? Why hadn't Tonks come running? Had he placed a Confundus Charm on her?

She tried to keep the tremble out of her voice. "Draco," she whimpered as his tongue darted out to lick her ear. "You have to stop. They'll see."

"They won't," he whispered, dipping his fingers below her waistline.

So he could successfully _glamour_ both of them to hide what he was doing. She didn't know what to do. He appeared to be in control, but pushing him away might aggravate the situation.

"I want to touch you," he said, his breath sending tingles from her neck all the way down to her core.

"Draco, wait..."

Gently, he pushed her head to a slight angle under his chin, exposing her neck. He dragged his fingers from her collarbone up the line of her throat, ending at her scalp where he tangled them into her hair. The thumb of his other hand dipped beneath the waistline of her trousers. Nimbly, he unbuttoned the top and nudged down the zipper. He pressed against her hips so that her bum rubbed his groin. Her eyes closed, and she let out a small moan.

"Are you in control?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly.

Was he even capable of answering that question? It didn't seem like he was going to bite her, but what they were doing was dangerous. If they kept it up, it would certainly _lead_ to him biting her. Would he know when to stop? Would _she?_

He lowered his mouth to the pulse point on her neck, and she felt his lips form a smile. "For now."

He brought her right arm up to wrap around the back of his neck, exposing more of her body to his exploring fingers. He touched her midriff, up to the bottoms of her breasts, back down to the top of her knickers. His fingers were everywhere, and she gave a soft moan.

His lips skimmed the skin of her throat, kissing, nipping, sucking her skin into his mouth. She shuddered, feeling like putty in his strong embrace. She was nervous, afraid, but she had a wand this time. She could defend herself and bind him if she needed to. She dropped the ruined Horcrux and slowly reached across her body for the wand in her right trouser pocket, trying not to excite Draco further.

 _Slowly, slowly…_ She would feel better if it was in her hand.

"Draco," she said, trying to keep her voice even as his fingers skimmed the underside of her breast, tenderly cupping, gently squeezing, dragging down the fabric of her bra. "How did you know about the cu—” She moaned as he rolled her nipple between his fingers, pinching and pulling. She arched into his touch as much as she could, pressing against the strong forearm that pinned her to his body.

"Eavesdropping," he said, speaking directly into her ear. She felt her knickers grow damp.

"That's quite a complex bit of magic, being able to discuss it right under everyone's noses."

His right arm lowered from her neck. He pushed his hand into her trousers, between her legs.

"Impressive spellwork." His voice rumbled against her ear, and he peppered the skin of her neck with kisses, licks, and little nips. She dug her nails into the back of his neck and felt him grin against her throat.

"Draco." Her left hand found the tip of her wand, and she slowly drew it. His hand crept further down, into her knickers, finding her curls, finding her folds.

"Yes?" he asked as he kneaded her breast and licked her throat. She gripped her wand tighter and twirled it around to angle it back at him.

"How did you—" She gasped and arched her back at a particularly hard tug on her nipple. "How did you know about this place?" His middle finger slid along her slit. She bucked her hips and sighed audibly..

"Deductive reasoning," he answered huskily.

Her eyes snapped open as he removed his hand from her breast to encircle the wrist of her left hand, stilling her wand. At the same time, he rubbed the vein that he had previously drunk from back at his manor.

"Good idea," he whispered, and squeezed her fingers, tightening them around her wand, aiming it at himself.

"Should I—" Her voice shuddered as his finger teased her entrance. He hadn't bitten her, but she had to stop him before he did. When would that be? How would she know?

"Not yet," he said, rubbing himself against her arse. His hand slid lower until he cupped her wet heat. He pressed his fingers against her, growling against her throat.

She trembled, wand aimed halfheartedly as his finger remained at her entrance, probing, sliding over her clit. She writhed and panted against him while he nuzzled the nape of her neck.

"Draco," she groaned. "I don't know if—"

He dragged his teeth against her skin and brought her arm back so that her wand was pressed against him.

"Just a bit more," he growled.

 _Gods._ He was sin. And she _did_ want more.

As if he could hear her thoughts, his finger stopped its teasing and slid inside of her, curving upwards. A second finger joined, and he chuckled as she whimpered against him. Slowly, _slowly,_ he slid his fingers in and out of her, rubbing her clit with his thumb. Hermione bit her lip and let out another moan.

"Hermione…" His hot breath tickled her ear as his fingers kept their torturously slow pace sliding in and out of her.

"Oh…" His mouth paused in its decadent exploration of her neck, shoulder, and throat.

His mouth opened, and his lips pressed into her flesh. She felt the points of his fangs ever so delicately grazing her skin, back and forth. His fingers slowly stroked, slid, pressed, flicked, cupped, squeezed. And she moaned and writhed against his body in response.

"Want to taste you…" Draco's voice turned into a growl. "You smell… _ripe._ "

His fingers tensed, as if trying to hold her in place. Nothing less than pure instinct galvanized her into action.

" _Incarcerous Argentum!_ "

In a flash of light, silver ropes wound across Draco's torso, restricting his upper arms and bringing him to his knees with a snarl. Her limbs went limp, and her body felt cold as he fell away from her. Hermione watched as he struggled with the four silver stripes wrapping across his chest, pinning his arms behind him. She closed her trousers and adjusted her jumper with a trembling sigh. Her insides ached with the sudden emptiness. She wouldn't be getting much sleep tonight.

"Sorry," she whispered.

"It’s okay," he panted, baring his fangs. "You were right. I was about to…" He grunted in pain as the silver cut through his robes and burned his skin.

She swished her wand, ending the glamour. Just as suddenly, Harry, Tonks, Ron, Bill, and Lupin appeared outside, flanking her.

Ron grabbed her upper arm, drawing her gaze from Draco. "Are you okay? I didn't see what happened."

"Yes," she answered. "He didn't do anything."

"Yet," Harry said, finishing her sentence. She eyed him but didn't argue.

Ron saw the fallen scarf. With a growl of anger, he landed a vicious kick to Draco's stomach, who grunted and doubled over.

"Ron, no!" Hermione pulled him back, ignoring his scowl. "He's saved my life. Remember?"

From his prone position on the ground, Draco snarled menacingly up at Ron.

"You call not killing you saving your life?" Ron retorted.

"Ronald, if you can't control yourself, go back inside. We have to take him outside the city. Best to the Forbidden Forest outside of Hogwarts' anti-Appartion wards. He'll kill people in London if we release him here." She picked up the sack from the ground, put it under her arm, holstered her wand, and clasped Harry and Ron's hands. "Come on, we'll Side-Along to—"

Draco's hand wrapped around her ankle. With a jolt, they all fell to the ground, landing outside of the Forbidden Forest, to the exact spot where Draco had Apparated her before.

Ron retched and wiped his mouth. "Dammit, Hermione. Give a warning before you—"

"I didn't do it."

"Harry, you didn't wait for the rest of us."

"It wasn't me."

They all looked down at Draco, who hissed in pain as the silver burnt through his clothes and into his skin. He scowled at Ron and Harry, then turned to Hermione. "You were touching. I didn't mean to take them, too."

A series of cracks sounded in the near distance. Lupin, Tonks, and Bill appeared nearby and ran towards them.

"Why didn't you wait?" Tonks said, out of breath, arriving first.

"Draco Apparated us," Hermione answered.

Everyone except Hermione, who had already witnessed the displays of Draco's power, looked down at him incredulously. He was clearly suffering from the bonds she had restrained him with, but had Apparated himself and three others with little effort. Still, he made no move to get up from his kneeling position or to free himself.

Draco sniffed. "Werewolf," he growled.

Lupin narrowed his eyes. "Vampire," he said, looking at him warily. "If you're as powerful as Hermione says, why don't you just remove the bonds?"

Draco gritted his teeth and grunted. "The pain keeps me focused."

Lupin studied him, and then slowly nodded. "Yes, it would, wouldn't it?"

Hermione knelt beside Draco. He looked up at her though his fringe, a small whimper escaping from his mouth.

"I could release you now," she offered, her voice rising in a question.

"No!" Lupin and Draco answered simultaneously.

Tentatively, she ran her hand through his hair and cupped his jaw; he lightly nuzzled her hand. She could feel everyone's eyes on her, but she didn't care.

"You sure?" she asked.

His teeth captured the pad of her thumb. He bit down lightly, and the brief contact sent an electric jolt to her aching core. His silver eyes filled with hunger as he stared into hers. "Yes."

"Draco." Lupin's voice took on an air of authority. "Why did you come tonight?"

Draco motioned to Hermione. "She'll tell you." Then, he smirked. "Or not."

Lupin glanced between Hermione and Draco. "How did you find us?"

Draco shifted and snarled as the silver cut into his flesh.

"I've known where the Order's headquarters were for a long time now."

Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Really?"

Draco looked up at her. She nodded in encouragement, and he gave a resigned sigh, glancing at Harry. "Sirius Black was your godfather, was he not? You would have been the heir after Black was killed." Harry's eyes glimmered for a minute, then hardened.

"And?" Harry said, urging him on.

His voice took on an arrogant sneer. "A few years back, I came by Grimmauld Place one afternoon to see..." He shut his mouth, glanced at Hermione, and then back to Lupin. "I was curious. But I couldn't find the house. Number eleven, number thirteen, but no number twelve. I should have been able to see the house. I'm a wizard, and the Blacks are my relatives."

"And no one else figured this out?" Lupin continued, ignoring his tone.

"No. And I wasn't about to clarify."

"Why are you helping us?" Harry interrupted.

Hermione stood up and squared her shoulders. She didn't want Draco to have to talk about his feelings for her in front of them. "That's enough. We've discussed Draco’s lack of allegiance to them more times than I can count, and here we have the proof. Let's leave so he can go." She eyed the four silver stripes across his chest, and the exposed skin and muscle underneath. "He's clearly in pain."

Ron protested. "How do we know he won't bring the Death Eaters back? He could have followed you after letting you go. We should get rid of him."

Draco gave Ron a scathing look, although the effect was lessened by his moan of pain. "I'd like to see you try, Weasley."

"He won't bring anyone, Ron. He could have already done so had he wanted to. Let's go," Hermione said with a note of finality.

Harry looked at her. "Ron's got a point. What if he's lying? Maybe he didn't know about the location from years ago." Harry looked at his feet, took a steadying breath, and glanced down at Hermione. "And I don't think you're being objective," he said, his words came out in a rush.

Hermione’s cheeks reddened as her body temperature rose with her anger. "And _Ron_ is objective? _You're_ objective?"

"Then why come now? By himself?" Bill entered the exchange. "I believe Malfoy."

"As do I," said Lupin. "He brought Hermione back unharmed." At this, both Harry and Ron's eyes snapped to hers as Lupin continued. "And he's given us ample opportunity to kill him." Lupin eyed Draco thoughtfully. "I wonder if he couldn't overpower all of us right now and get away."

Draco smirked; Ron glared mutinously at Lupin.

Harry turned to Tonks. "What do you think?"

A snarl sounded from below. Draco turned to Hermione. "You were right, the silver works better than I thought it would. But I've had enough. This fucking hurts." He sneered at the rest before saying, "You should all leave. I'm not going to be held responsible for my actions once I'm free." He grinned maliciously at Ron.

Harry protested angrily. "Now wait a minute, we haven't—"

Draco just smiled. "On the count of three, Potter." His voice lilted upwards at each number. "One…"

"We're leaving. Now," Hermione said.

"Two..." Draco drew out the number for several seconds, clearly enjoying Harry and Ron's rage.

"Let's go, we'll talk more later," said Lupin.

Hermione glanced worriedly to Draco, who gave her a roguish wink. No, she was definitely not going to sleep well tonight.

Several loud cracks sounded in the air as they all Disapparated. All but one.

"You want to die, Weasley?" he taunted.

"Get out of your bindings!” Ron shouted. “Now!"

Draco worked his arm out. He extended two fingers in a rude gesture and raised his eyebrows innocently. "Did you want to taste her too?"

Ron's face turned purple. "I'll _kill_ you for what you did to her!" he ground out.

Draco smirked. "On second thought," he continued, sucking on his fingers with relish, "I don't think I want to share."

Ron snarled with rage and kicked Draco in the jaw.

He fell onto his back then smiled menacingly, revealing his fangs.

"Three…"

The silver ropes dissolved and he lunged at Ron with a roar.

" _Lumos sol!_ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I'm evil. 
> 
> Five chapters left to go, you know he's not dead!


	15. Chapter 15 - Alternate ending

**Chapter 15 – Alternate ending**

They landed in a dark, back alley several blocks away from the headquarters, their party too numerous to Apparate directly onto the steps.

"Alright," Harry said checking the street. "We can go back. But let's do it two at time. Tonks, Bill, you two go first."

They nodded and walked back. Harry peered around the corner, watching them. "Just a few minutes more… Ron? You go with Hermione."

He heard a quick movement behind him and whirled around. Hermione craned her neck wildly and turned in circles.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked, confused.

"That unbelievably stupid – Argh!" She let out a frustrated shriek and Disapparated.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

To her horror, Hermione arrived to see Ron pale, bloody, and lying on the ground. A chunk of flesh was missing from the nape of his neck, and his wand arm appeared to be broken.

"No, no, no, no," she muttered, feeling for a pulse and trying to staunch the blood flow.

He was alive.

She closed her eyes in relief and started chanting to close the wound. With a cursory glance at her surroundings, she noticed that there was no sign of Draco, nor of a pile of ash. She couldn't imagine Draco leaving Ron alive with a gaping wound. Draco would have drained Ron dry if he were alive and able. Ron must have killed him, but she couldn’t see evidence of it.

Harry and Lupin reappeared with a pop. Lupin looked aghast.

"Alive?" Harry croaked.

She nodded without stopping her chanting and felt the beginnings of hot tears pool in her eyes. They bent over Ron and, matching her rhythm, pointed their wands at his wound. They had arrived in time; Ron was going to be fine. She closed her eyes, and the tears fell.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Hermione and Harry sat by Ron's bedside, looking down at him. Some of the color had returned to his face, but it would take another day or so for him to completely heal and regain his strength. Madam Pomfrey had stopped by earlier and mended his arm with little difficulty.

Harry looked up at Hermione. "Having a werewolf in the Order has its uses, eh? We can all cure bite wounds in our sleep."

Hermione gave a mirthless chuckle and held Ron's hand in hers. She felt sick with worry. She hadn't gotten a chance to return to the Forbidden Forest and check for a pile of ash, but she was fairly certain that Ron had killed Draco. Maybe there was a chance he was still alive.

She bit her lip to hold back her tears, but it wasn't working.

"Hermione," Harry said tentatively. She raised her head to meet his gaze. He looked like he was trying to decide how to phrase his thoughts, and then finally asked her, "When did this start… With Malfoy?"

Hermione felt blood rush to her face. She had hoped that she wouldn't have to talk about Draco. She got up to leave, but Harry pressed on. "Ron's been worse than this, and I have yet to see you shed a tear for him."

Hermione studied Harry. He didn't seem angry or betrayed as she might have expected. She sat back down and sighed.

"I don't know. Sixth year? Once we actually got an opportunity to talk to each other alone, we… Connected."

"Connected?" Harry asked skeptically. "I'm surprised that he talked to you at all, bigot that he was."

She wiped the tears from her eyes with the palm of her hand and said, "I think he had begun to question his views long before."

"What makes you think that?"

"Well," she sniffed, "there was that time at the World Cup, and I missed it too. I suppose you would have to know what to look for. It's only when I thought about it in retrospect…"

"What's that?"

"Do you remember when Draco's father and a few others suspended those Muggles in the air?"

"Of course, and then the git came to lord it over us—the fact that they were out to get you because you're Muggle-born."

"Exactly."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

_Hermione illuminated her wand and directed its narrow beam across the path. Ron was lying sprawled on the ground._

_"Tripped over a tree root," he said angrily, getting to his feet again._

_"Well, with feet that size, hard not to," said a drawling voice from behind them._

_Harry, Ron, and Hermione turned sharply. Draco Malfoy stood alone nearby, leaning against a tree, looking utterly relaxed. His arms folded, he seemed to have been watching the scene at the campsite through a gap in the trees._

_"Go bugger yourself, you inbred prat!"_

_"Language, Weasley," said Malfoy, his pale eyes glittering. "Hadn't you better be hurrying along now? You wouldn't like_ her _spotted, would you?"_

_He nodded at Hermione, and at the same moment, a blast like a bomb sounded from the campsite. A flash of green light momentarily lit up the trees around them._

_"What's that supposed to mean?" said Hermione defiantly. She didn't like the look in his eyes. It wasn't threatening, but it was… She couldn't name what it was, and her inability to identify it unnerved her._

_"Granger, they're after_ Muggles _," said Malfoy. "D'you want to be showing off your knickers in midair? Because if you do, hang around… They're moving this way, and it would give us all a laugh."_

_"Hermione's a witch," Harry snarled._

_"Have it your own way, Potter," said Malfoy, grinning maliciously. "If you think they can't spot a Mudblood, stay where you are."_

_"You watch your mouth!" shouted Ron._

_"Never mind, Ron," said Hermione quickly, seizing Ron's arm to restrain him as he took a step toward Malfoy. He was baiting them on purpose, and yet… She couldn't deny that he had given them sound advice. They heard another bang from the other side of the trees, much louder than the first. Several people nearby screamed. Malfoy chuckled softly._

_"Scare easily, don't they?" he said lazily. "I suppose your daddy told you all to hide? What's he up to? Trying to rescue the Muggles?"_

_"Where're_ your _parents?" Harry asked, his temper rising. "Out there wearing masks, are they?"_

_Malfoy turned his face to Harry, still smiling._

_"Well… If they were, I wouldn't be likely to tell you, would I, Potter?"_

_"Oh come on," said Hermione, with a disgusted look at Malfoy, "let's go and find the others."_

_"Keep that big bushy head down, Granger," sneered Malfoy._

_"Come_ on _," Hermione repeated, and she pulled Harry and Ron up the path again. She stared back at Draco and frowned. There it was again. He was giving her advice._ _Good advice._

 _"I'll bet you anything his dad_ is _one of that masked lot!" said Ron hotly._

_"Well, with any luck, the Ministry will catch him!" said Hermione fervently. Looking around to find that they had lost everyone else, she forgot her line of thought regarding Malfoy. "Oh, I can't believe this. Where have the others got to?"_

_Fred, George, and Ginny were nowhere to be seen, though the path was packed with plenty of other people, all looking nervously over their shoulders toward the commotion back at the campsite._

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"Three times, Harry."

"What? That he insulted you?"

"No," she said with an exasperated sigh. "Three times he tried to warn us. To make us understand that I would be a target and should be hidden. His father already knew that I was Muggle-born. Why else would Draco warn us if his views weren't already changed? Or changing?"

Harry opened his mouth as if to reply, and then closed it.

"And then there was Moaning Myrtle."

"What?" Harry asked, looking annoyed at the growing amount of evidence.

"He confided in her a lot during sixth year. Remember? And she was Muggle-born."

"But then why keep calling you 'Mudblood' all these years?"

"Now you're being purposely thick!" she retorted angrily. "Just look at the position he was in!"

He looked down in thought and admitted reluctantly, "Yeah. I guess you're right."

Hermione stared blankly at Ron for a few minutes and then said, "He’s done all he could to protect those he loved in an impossible situation."

Harry's voice took on an irritated tone. "Have you forgotten school completely? He was a whining, spoiled bully."

" _Was_ ," Hermione argued. "And then life got complicated. He changed."

Harry gritted his teeth. "But how can you still feel that way after this?" He gestured to Ron's unconscious body.

"You hypocrite!" she hissed, furiously wiping away at angry tears. "Ron stayed behind to kill him! And I still love Ron, don't I?"

Harry looked to the side, his jaw jutting out.

Several tense minutes passed in silence with the only sound being Hermione's occasional sniffling. Harry shifted in his seat, and then cleared his throat.

"Why did he come here?"

Hermione scoffed at him. "Have you suddenly realized that there are more important things to discuss than your schoolyard pissing contests?"

She reached down, picked up the sack Draco had given her, and lobbed it over Ron's body. Harry caught it effortlessly.

Glaring at her but saying nothing, he looked inside. For a moment he was silent, and then his eyes slowly widened in shock. "Is that what I think it is?"

"Yes."

"He destroyed it?"

"Yes."

Harry's voice rose. "By _himself_?"

"I think so."

"Merlin's _beard_!" His voice softened, taking on a tone of awe. He took the cup from the sack and held it up, turning it around and inspecting the damage. "If he's so powerful, why didn't the Death Eaters use him?"

"He didn't want to be used. I told you, he has… He _had_ no loyalty to them or their cause."

"Then why didn't he join us?"

"He was worried about his parents. We've been over this, Harry."

"But they've been dead a few months now. Why didn't he come? He knew you were waiting for him."

"Being a vampire... Well, it complicated things." She looked up and choked back a sob. "I was surprised that he came at all tonight. I didn't expect to ever see him again."

Tears filled her eyes and Harry looked away, not wanting to stare.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. “I didn’t realize you felt that way about him.”

She nodded gratefully, and the two sat looking at Ron's sleeping form.

After a few minutes she added, "Harry, he thinks the last one is Nagini."

Harry was pulled from his reverie. "He thinks so, too? You didn't agree with Dumbledore."

"No, I didn't. But Draco has been around the both of them for the past few years, so he would know. I just didn't think that a living being would make a good Horcrux. Nagini will eventually die."

"Maybe it would still be active in her corpse."

She shook her head. "No, he made a _living being_ a Horcrux. When it dies, the Horcrux will die. It was rather foolish of him." She lay back in her chair exhausted. "She's the last one, Harry. And then we can kill _him_."

"If we're smart, we'll do both at the same time."

"That's the _only_ way we can do it."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Hermione and Harry woke as Ron began to stir.

"Hey," Harry said, smiling at him. "How are you doing?"

Ron rubbed his eyes and looked around. "Not bad. Hungry, though."

"Did you kill him?"

Ron turned to face Hermione's hostile expression. He raised his voice an octave to imitate hers. "How are you feeling, Ron? I was so worried!" His tenor returned to normal, but became laced with anger. "Oh, I'm fine, thanks for asking. I just got a bite taken out of me by a blood sucking _ferret_."

She gritted her teeth in an attempt to stay the angry tears that threatened to spill from her eyes. Leaning forward, she repeated her question. Each word trembled with her rage and sorrow.

"Did. You. _Kill._ Him."

"Isn't it _me_ you should be worried about? _He_ tried to kill _me_."

"And what did you stay behind for?" Hermione spat at him. "A game of chess?"

Ron scowled at her. "Maybe now he'll stay away. We're better off without his ferrety arse stalking you. He's _done_ something to you. You're not in your right mind."

She sighed in relief and sagged back into her chair. "He's alive, then."

"Crispy, but alive," he answered reluctantly. "He was too fast. And if he comes back, I'll do it again."

Hermione pressed her palms to her forehead, counted to ten, and then exhaled loudly. It didn't help. Her patience had run out; Ron and Draco’s mutual hatred was a complete waste of time. There were more important things to worry about. Slowly lowering her hands, she glared at Ron. She could feel the anger radiating out of her, and he winced at whatever he saw in her expression.

Her voice came out more threatening than she had originally intended, but she did nothing to temper the outpouring of her rage. "You're a _fucking idiot_ , Ronald Weasley."

He opened his mouth to protest, but closed it after Harry gave a quick shake of his head.

"You have this uncanny ability to reduce your intelligence to that of a _Blast-Ended Skrewt_ whenever you're worried about the size of your dick!"

His face reddened. Her voice dropped lower and became even more menacing.

"Don't you _understand_? He would have been an ally and an incredible weapon if wielded correctly. He's more powerful than Voldemort and his Death Eaters combined, and _he came to help us destroy him!_ "

She paused until it appeared that Ron had formulated a response. When he opened his mouth to reply, she cut him off, raising the volume of her voice. "But now you've gone and bollixed it up because you're still upset that he had a Nimbus 2000 when all you had was a Cleanswop!"

"Cleansweep," Harry muttered under his breath.

"Whatever!" she yelled, dismissing him with a wave of her hand. Harry sat back, not daring to interrupt again. From the look on her face, Ron might soon have yet another bite that would need healing.

Ron's expression turned livid. "What absolute tripe! I was only protecting y—umph! What the—"

He looked down at the object she had thrown at his stomach. The angry expression on Ron's face fell as he looked down dumbly at the Hufflepuff Cup.

"Fuck me! You guys went to Gringotts? How long was I out?"

Hermione crossed her arms, her answer curt. " _You_ were out for a day and a half. _Draco_ gave me the cup."

Ron opened his mouth like he was going to say something, shut it, and then opened it again. "Wait, but… How did he know?"

Hermione raised her eyebrows and leaned forward. "And," she continued, without answering his question, "he _also_ thinks that Nagini is the final one."

Ron slowly raised the cup, scrutinizing it skeptically. "Are you _sure_ that this is really—"

She sat back. "Yes, Ron, it's the real thing. We checked."

"And he destroyed it?"

"Yes."

"By _himself?"_ Ron asked, gawking at the cup.

Hermione looked at Harry and sighed.

Ron poked at it, surprised when the blackened metal that looked so much like crumpled paper didn't give like paper would.

"Bloody hell."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Bill, Hermione, Lupin, Tonks, Ron, and Harry huddled over the attack plans for the fortress, where Voldemort’s army was housed and operated from. It was a sketchy blueprint that they had acquired and added to over the years. They were discussing what they hoped would be the final battle, and had been doing so every day for the past week.

After a lull in the conversation, Lupin looked at Hermione and sighed. "You've got some brilliant ideas, but it doesn't change the fact that we're outnumbered three to one. Maybe even four to one if we catch him with the entirety of his force."

Hermione gazed at him. With sagging shoulders, she said, "And we're attacking a fortress. The advantage goes to the defending position no matter how you look at it. I know."

"What if we made a decoy? A second attack somewhere else to draw most of them out?" Ron suggested.

"It had better be a _good_ decoy," Harry said. "Those odds are pretty steep. It would take quite a bit of subterfuge to convince them it was real and keep them there long enough to finish off Voldemort."

Bill gave Ron a quelling look. "And those involved in the decoy would essentially be on a suicide mission. Leave the planning to Hermione."

Ron scowled.

Hermione rubbed her temples and let her hands drop to the table. She had hoped that it wouldn't come to this, and that they would have come up with a battle plan to overcome all the obstacles. Then she wouldn't have had to suggest the alternative that had been dancing around in the back of her head.

"Maybe we're going about this the wrong way," she said.

"How so?" Tonks asked.

"Well, we always assumed that once we finished the mission, we could go attack Voldemort and kill him. End this all. But that was _years_ ago. His army is much larger than it was before. And while we've grown too, we still don't have the manpower that he does."

"Each one of the Order is worth at least four of his brainwashed idiots," Ron piped up defensively.

Bill gave him a half grin and ruffled his hair. "That's the spirit. You're better at cheerleading."

Ron cursed under his breath and swatted Bill's hand away.

Hermione took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "Well, there _is_ another option."

Sometimes, Hermione wished that she wasn't such a good strategist. Being ruthless and pragmatic, she was quite suited for the job. But ultimately, she felt responsible for both the victories and defeats that the Order incurred. Even worse, she was sometimes in a position to decide who lived and who died, who would be in which wave, who would attack from which flank, and who would participate in which raid. She knew if the chances of survival were better in one group than another.

Sometimes, even the best laid plans resulted in death. Unforeseen difficulties, people in the wrong place at the wrong time, like with Parvati.

"Draw him out alone?" Tonks finished for her. She must have been thinking along the same lines.

She nodded. "Or with few others."

"How?" Harry said.

She sighed, looked at Harry, and hoped he wouldn't hate her. His inquisitive expression fell to one of resignation.

"Bait," he said, since she couldn't quite get the word off the tip of her tongue. "You want me to be the bait."

"Yes," she said quietly.

"But surely we could—" Tonks protested.

"Think about it," Hermione explained. She began ticking off the advantages on her fingers, feeling very Machiavellian. "We pick the time. We pick the battlefield. We come prepared. We have the element of surprise. They come, hoping to do Harry in, or kidnap him — depending on how we set it up. They won't expect a full-fledged battle. Every advantage goes to us."

No one could argue with her. She stole a quick glance at Harry. He was looking at the table, avoiding her gaze.

"I'll do it," he said tonelessly.

"Harry," Tonks tried to dissuade him.

"No," Harry continued. "She's right. And what difference does it make? It's got to be me and him at the end, anyway."

He looked up at her and gave her a small smile. "It's okay. And I'm glad we have you to think of these things. Like I said, you’re _our_ bitch."

She felt the coldness in her body warm a little from his words.

"If Harry's bait," Ron said, "then I am, too."

Harry nodded at him gratefully.

"Me too," Hermione said quietly. Harry gave her a small smile in response.

"Harry," Lupin said. "We're _all_ going to be with you that night. Now." He waved his wand, causing all of the maps, plans, and notes that were on the table to whisk themselves away to a kitchen drawer. Everyone's eyes followed the papers. "Before we commit to anything, let's brainstorm a bit. I think our first question is: where do we want to do this?"

"The Gaunts' old house," Hermione replied.

Harry looked at her sharply. "You've already sussed this out."

She looked down at the table guiltily. "I started thinking about it two days ago. I didn't think we'd be able to beat the odds, either."

"Well?" Tonks prodded her. "Who are the Gaunts?"

Hermione looked at Harry from the corner of her eye and saw him nod.

"Voldemort's family.” That answer got a few raised eyebrows from around the table. "He had hidden something there which was connected to our mission. If we let it be known that Harry, Ron, and I are staking out the area, he'll come. And he'll come with few others, if anyone at all, because he won't want anybody to know about the… Our mission. We'll ambush him."

Harry smiled appreciatively at the plan so far. She continued. "The house is relatively isolated. The nearest residence is the Riddle estate, which has been abandoned for quite some time. We can prepare the land and make the borders of Anti-Apparition wards, which will be erected the moment he arrives."

She saw nods of agreement, but Ron stared thoughtfully into space.

"What are you thinking, Ron?" He managed to hide it well, but she knew that Ron had his moments of brilliance, even if no one else did.

He lowered his eyes to hers. "He has to bring Nagini in order for this to end. It will slow him down, but if we don’t destroy Nagini, he’ll come back again."

Hermione opened her mouth in surprise.

"Damn," she muttered. "I didn't think of that."

"A shame Padma's turned traitor. It would have been nice to have someone on the inside to take out the snake," Harry said, digging his nail into a scratch in the table.

"There will never be another Severus Snape," Lupin commented.

Suddenly, Lupin tensed. He sniffed the air and looked to Bill, who also seemed on edge. Bill nodded.

"What?" Harry asked.

Bill and Lupin turned to the puzzled and curious expressions on everyone's faces. Lupin met Hermione's eyes. "It appears that our vampire friend has returned."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Excerpt taken from the Goblet of Fire.


	16. Chapter 16 - Alternate ending

**Chapter 16 – Alternate Ending**

Hermione’s eyes flashed at Ron as he stood up from his kitchen chair. After attempting to murder Draco post- _Horcrux_ delivery, Ron couldn’t possibly think that anyone would let him come meet Draco a second time. She brought herself up to her full, 5’2” frame and stepped directly in front of him, not intimidated by his height in the least. His bright blue eyes glared down at her, expecting a fight.

“You aren’t going anywhere near him. _Do I make myself clear?_ ” Her voice was low, with an undercurrent of violence. Ron looked to Lupin to come to his defense and ground his teeth when he saw none.

“You know she’s right, Ron.” Lupin admonished. “You’re not in school anymore, and your behavior is endangering all of us.”

Ron flinched at Lupin’s dress down and exhaled loudly through his nose. He was clearly struggling with his hatred and distrust of Draco when everyone else was convinced there was no reason for it.

Hermione’s gaze flicked to Harry. His eye twitched, but he otherwise said nothing, flexing his forearms crossed in front of his chest. She knew he was doing his best to accept the radically different situation and not verbalize his worries, cognizant of the fact that it would only anger her further. She wanted to see Draco alone, but it would be smarter to compromise tonight. The stakes were high. She needed everyone concentrating on defeating Voldemort, which meant using whatever Draco had to offer.

“Lupin will come with me. Alright?”

Lupin understood that Draco was an ally and could be trusted so long as he was in control of himself. However tenuous that control was. Hermione supposed it was similar to what he and Bill struggled with around the full moon, being werewolves. They would never intentionally hurt those they loved, but it was a risk all the same. Lupin’s dark eyes met hers, showing that he understood the intention behind her request.

Harry pushed his glasses up his nose and peered up at Hermione from his chair.

“Alright,” he reluctantly agreed, nudging Ron’s leg when he didn’t respond. Hermione saw Ron’s jaw moving as he loomed over her, grinding his teeth.

“Alright?” she repeated to Ron, inching closer to him.

“Fucking hell.” He muttered in defeat and collapsed back down in his chair, causing the legs to scrape loudly against the tile floor.

Hermione was glad Harry could be reasoned with. Ron was much more difficult to get through to. Given Draco’s history with Ron and Harry, his transformation to a vampire and her now obvious feelings for him, it was only natural that her two best friends would have difficulty processing everything. Harry had come around, but Ron still hadn’t. Both held grudges, but Harry had nearly killed Draco back in Sixth Year. His guilt likely made him better equipped to see reason. She glared at Ron fidgeting moodily in his seat. Draco was on their side. Ron would need to accept that and work with him. They couldn’t afford his violent outbursts. Angrily, she grabbed a scarf to cover her neck and handed one to Lupin.

“We’re _lucky_ he came back after that stunt you pulled. He’s _helping_ us.” She paused, took a breath, and steeled her gaze at Ron, who continued glaring at her. “And… And I really care about him.” He flinched at her words, but she felt freer after admitting a portion of her feelings out loud. Ron looked to the side, unable to meet her eyes anymore. She turned and walked from the kitchen with Lupin.

“Get over it,” she called harshly over her shoulder, following the werewolf towards the door. She thought she heard Tonks mutter something about toxic masculinity.

“Wait!” Ron’s voice cracked in desperation.

Hermione turned around and snarled at him. “What?”

“Can’t you—” She watched him struggle to gather his thoughts. “ _Some_ thing could be done to protect you. What if—”

Quickly, while he still had her attention, his eyes scanned the kitchen until he zeroed in on what he wanted. Ron _Accio_ ’d garlic from its storage basket and mashed it on the table with a swish of his wand.

Bill raised an appreciative eyebrow and reached for some cooking oil. “Occasionally my brother makes use of that grey mass between his ears.”

They all watched in silence as Bill poured the oil in a bowl and set it on the kitchen table with a clank. Ron collected the mashed garlic and dissolved it magically in with the oil. He stood up and extended his arm, offering his concoction to Hermione as a non-verbal apology.

The heels of her boots clicked against the wooden foyer, the sound changing once she reached the tiled kitchen. She maintained her glare as she took the bowl, but wordlessly dipped her fingers in the oil. She rubbed it over her neck and behind her ears while he watched her. She handed the bowl to Lupin for him to do the same and once more turned to leave.

“Wait—” Ron protested again.

Sighing, she turned around and looked at him impatiently, but without anger. If he was sincerely trying to help and get past his schooldays rivalry with Draco, she needed to move forward as well and forgive him.

“That takes care of his sense of smell. You’re covering up your throat with the scarf. What about other senses, like hearing? Could we…” He cracked his knuckles, trying to translate his ideas into words. “I don’t know, prevent him from hearing your heartbeat?”

He ran his hand through his hair when she didn’t react and sighed. “Never mind, that’s stupid.”

Hermione’s eyes softened as she looked up at him. “No, actually. That’s a really good idea.”

Ron looked down at her and shoved his hands into his pockets. “You’ll have more time with him then.” He slowly exhaled. “I’m sorry. You’re right, he’s helping us.”

She reached out to his elbow, knowing how hard this was for him. Looking up into his face, she felt a surge of affection for the man who defeated a troll with her in the bathroom. He had always been supportive. Always there for her, albeit in his sometimes misguided way.

“Thank you.”

He gave her a sad smile. She squeezed his elbow reassuringly. This was going to work. The odds of the war were changing in their favor, and she would ensure that they played their cards right.

Seeing as flashes of brilliance were rare for Ron and apologies even more so, Bill muttered something about Polyjuice Potion under his breath. Without turning, Ron smacked the back of his head, dislodging some hair from Bill’s ponytail. Everyone chuckled, and the tension in the room slowly dissipated.

Sitting at the kitchen table, Tonks looked up at Lupin and Hermione pensively for a few minutes before pointing her wand at them. “ _Silencio Cor! Silencio Sangre!_ ”

Bill looked up from his chair and readjusted his ponytail. His werewolf- enhanced senses immediately noticed the silencing of two cardiovascular systems.

“Nice, that worked!” he affirmed.

Lupin nodded his approval to Tonks, as he, too, could hear the difference after her simple solution. She kissed her fingers and touched his lips with a smile.

Lupin’s eyes crinkled with a smile. He turned to Hermione. “Ready?”

She turned to leave for the final time, feeling everyone’s eyes on her back. Her stomach sank in anticipation as Lupin opened the door.

“After you.” He extended his arm to allow her to exit first.

She was excited to see Draco and eager to hear what he had to say.

They exited 12 Grimmauld Place, and Hermione felt her heartbeat quicken as she glanced down the block at the dark, imposing, cloaked figure leaning against the street lamp. Even though Ron hadn’t killed Draco, she still breathed a sigh of relief. He was alive and didn’t look damaged from what she was able to see. She had to consciously slow her pace to counter her need to run into his arms. She reminded herself that he could lose control at any time, and gripped her wand, not knowing what to expect from him.

Again, she wished she could see him alone but knew the compromise had been necessary to get Harry and Ron to agree to their meeting.

As she and Lupin approached, she could see Draco’s eyes glittering from underneath his hood. His teeth reflected the streetlamp’s light. He would have fed on someone before coming here. These meetings were costly, but pragmatically, she knew they were worth the price. They were going to win. She could feel it.

Draco’s arms were crossed before his chest, and his long fingers curled around his upper arm, drumming a rhythm into the cloth of his robe. She felt a warm coil of desire at the memories of his hands roaming under her clothes beneath this very streetlamp and wished Lupin wasn’t there. When they were ten feet away, Draco held up his hand, pale against his black cloak. They stopped so he could adjust to their presence. She appraised his tall, foreboding figure and felt a thrill of excitement when she noticed his other hand.

_He was carrying another sack!_

She glanced to Lupin and saw he was staring at the sack as well, but had revealed nothing. Like her, he maintained a calm exterior to prevent from exciting Draco. Her mind ran through the possibilities. This sack was larger than the one with the Hufflepuff cup. Was it a weapon? Books? Information? The Elder Wand? Whatever it was, it must have been incredibly important for him to return after Ron’s attempt to kill him. Speaking of which…

“Draco,” she spoke apologetically. “It’s my fault for not verifying that everyone had left. I’ve ensured you won’t be attacked again.”

Being a strategist, she often took responsibility for the group’s actions and, in this case, for Ron’s actions in particular. She should have expected some kind of outburst from him. Ron hadn’t fully understood the situation and, not knowing Draco would return, she hadn’t thought it was necessary to explain.

He scoffed dismissively. “As if Weasel could…” He paused mid-sentence and sniffed once. Slowly, he lowered his hood to stare at her and Lupin, revealing his blond hair. Her stomach fluttered as he studied them. His facial expression morphed from bored superiority to surprise as he noticed their attempts at camouflage to delay the onset of his bloodlust. Draco’s eyes appraised them, and she felt heat under his scrutiny.

“Well played.”

Lupin, not wanting to waste any more time, got right to the point. “What’s in the bag, Draco? Should we move to a less conspicuous location?”

Like Hermione, Lupin did not know the limits of Draco’s power. He wasn’t sure how well Draco could conceal them out in the open. Neither one of them really knew what to make of wizard vampires. From the look on his face, her former professor was just as curious about this new, uncharted territory as she was.

Draco shook his head. “No need.” He shifted his glance to Hermione and licked his lips with a quick, sensual motion. “Not yet, anyway.”

Hermione blushed at his veiled promise of sex and sin.

“Well?” Lupin asked expectantly, keeping the meeting on track.

Delicately, Draco extended his arm and placed the sack down on the sidewalk. It didn’t clank like the cup. It _settled_ , containing something soft. Hermione wondered if he had brought her some Death Eater’s head or internal organs and curled her lip in disgust. While his vampiric nature may have affected his moral compunctions towards murder or repugnance towards viscera, body parts would hardly be worth contacting her for.

Seeing her hesitation, he crooked a finger at her with a smirk, enticing her to come closer. She and Lupin slowly approached until they stood before him.

Taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, Hermione lifted the sack, undid the tie, pulled the opening wider to look inside, and blinked. Her stomach dropped. Inside the bag was the one complication to her plan this evening. Indeed, the complication to many of her plans and discussions over the past few days. If it hadn’t been here in front of her, she never would have believed it. Draco must have been eavesdropping on their planning discussions the past few days and acted on his own accord.

Inside the bag was Nagini’s head, obviously torn from its body. He would have had to not only penetrate the wards, but also get inside the fortress and stay there long enough to find and leave with the snake— all without getting himself killed. Her mind started racing with new possibilities, and her heart pounded with excitement. She had to count to three before she trusted herself to speak calmly and looked up at him.

“Dead and destroyed?” she asked, voice steady so as not to excite him. “Or just dead?”

He gave her a sultry look. “You _know_ I wouldn’t leave you unsatisfied, Hermione.”

He had that predatory look in his eyes that she remembered from the Manor. Lupin cleared his throat to rid himself of the awkwardness of witnessing Draco’s blatantly sexual innuendo.

“It was destroyed when I killed it,” Draco clarified. “But you already knew that would happen.”

She re-tied the sack and glanced wide-eyed back at Lupin, trying to convey her amazement to him without words.

“Your mission?” Lupin guessed, also keeping his voice matter- of- fact.

“Finished,” she confirmed. Lupin raised his eyebrows in surprise. She gave him the sack and turned back to Draco.

Lupin gazed inside, blinked in surprise, and then barked a laugh. “Arthur would enjoy seeing this.”

“Indeed, he would,” Hermione said with a wry smile. “Give it to Harry first,” she told him before turning to Draco. “When did you kill it?” The snake’s severed head looked as fresh as a severed snake head could possibly be.

“Fifteen minutes ago.”

Gob smacked, her eyes widened and she sucked in a gasp, quickly covering her mouth when she saw Draco tense. Even Lupin took a surprised breath.

“Didn’t take long at all,” he paused, looking down at her. “In…” His eyes were hungry. “And out.”

His word choice reminded her of him naked, thrusting into her from behind on blood- spattered floors while he latched onto her neck. She felt a tightening in her core at the memory. Draco must have known exactly what she was thinking about from her expression. He slid closer, eyes glinting down at her.

Lupin stiffened, and she sensed him slowly reaching for his wand. She took a half step backwards and struggled to bring her thoughts back to the implications of Draco’s actions tonight. Her mind raced at the thought of what was going on in the fortress this very moment. Their next move depended on what Voldemort knew, or didn’t know.

“Does he know?” she asked.

He shook his head to the negative. “I didn’t set off any alarms, but he’ll notice the snake and a few Death Eaters are missing at some point tonight.”

There would be confusion as he tried to figure out exactly what had happened. And how. Would it be all hands on deck, or would he send people away to search for her? Would he know that the other Horcruxes had been destroyed?

“Will he find out it was you?”

“No. He might consider my involvement. He knows I’m a traitor because you were never returned for questioning,” Draco answered. “You were…” He gazed devilishly down at her. “Otherwise occupied.”

Hermione flushed again at the memory of him sniffing, nuzzling, and licking all up and down her body, and his jaw clenched as his eyes traced the path that his tongue had made last week. He stepped forward, and she took a cautious step back. She needed to think this through. Lupin slowly brought his wand out, not quite threatening, but ready.

“He’ll think it’s an inside job then,” she concluded. “That’s the only possible explanation.”

Voldemort already knew that Draco was a traitor and would have modified his security measures to prevent him from accessing the fortress. But he wouldn’t think Draco capable of pulling this off without inside help because he was unaware of Draco’s powers. Certainly the Order had been unable to penetrate the Fortress in the past. He would be looking for a traitor, or multiple traitors. He would be turning on his own followers, and there would be complete pandemonium. They had to attack tonight. But no, they couldn’t prepare in time. Even with Draco’s help. She looked up to see him studying her hungrily while she contemplated the Order’s next move.

She glanced up at Lupin and saw that he was also thinking through the implications of Draco’s information. “We have to attack as soon as possible,” she told him.

“Yes,” Lupin agreed. “We do.”

“On that note…” Draco reached into his robes and pulled out several rolled up pieces of parchment. Lupin moved forward to accept them and stowed his wand. “These are accurate plans of the fortress. From what I overheard, you have false information planted by—”

“Mundungus Fletcher,” Lupin finished, unsurprised. “Thank you,” he added.

Draco nodded, continuing to eye- fuck her. She flushed under his unwavering gaze.

“We were never sure of our plans’ veracity,” Hermione explained, reaching out for the rolled parchments that Lupin began to unfurl, “but we didn’t have anything else to work with. And then he disappeared.”

Draco rubbed the side of his face with his thumb. “He played both sides and was executed.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, and he stared right back at her, unyielding, daring her to judge him. Draco was probably the one who had performed the execution. There were others that were captured and no doubt killed by him. She didn’t want to think about the implications of that right now. They had more important things to consider. Hermione pushed her musings on who else Draco might have killed to the back of her mind.

“Draco,” Lupin’s voice lilted slightly, and Draco turned to him. “You’ve been incredibly helpful. What _exactly_ are you offering?”

Draco leaned back against the street lamp, crossed his arms, and shrugged his shoulders. “What do you want, _werewolf?_ ” He used the word like a curse, and Lupin gritted his teeth, on edge from the vampire’s hostility. “I can get everyone though the wards without detection. I can rid you of a good chunck of his army within 15 to 20 minutes. You could be outnumbered by as much as 4 to 1 but still have the advantage.” He shifted his gaze to Hermione. “I can ensure the bait and switch works should you lure him to the Gaunt house with Potter.”

His voice lowered with dark promise.

“Tell me what you _need_ , Hermione.” She shivered at the way his words rolled off his tongue. He was raw sex, and she was unable to suppress her involuntary reaction to his innuendo. The corner of his mouth lifted ever so slightly.

“ _Use_ me.”

The low growl of his voice made her shiver.

The possibility of a final battle that could very well end in their victory and his relentless sensuality had her heart pounding in her chest and sent a tingly warmth spreading between her legs. All this anticipation and adrenaline had her nerve endings on fire. She was grateful for Tonks’ spell and Ron’s foresight. She had no doubt Draco would have lost control by now.

“I will,” she answered, and Draco’s eyes flickered silver with heat.

“Just like that?” Lupin asked suspiciously. Draco’s gaze shifted back to him. “You don’t want anything in return, _vampire_?” The way Lupin said “vampire” implied that he knew exactly what Draco wanted in return. Hermione flushed at how she was being discussed by the two men.

Fascinated, Hermione watched Draco’s fangs extend involuntarily, eliciting a quiet grunt from him. Quickly, Lupin dropped the sack and drew his wand, teeth bared in a way she had never seen before, ready to attack. Hermione angled her wand from below and stepped back from both of them. She wasn’t sure who she should be ready to hex at this point. She had never seen Lupin so on edge and wondered if it was the presence of a vampire that made him so. Draco turned his predatory stare towards her as a low growl escaped his chest.

After taking a few measured breaths, he answered gruffly, “What I want and what I am given are two different things.”

Hermione’s blood raced, and her chest and neck prickled with warmth under his penetrating eyes, promising a pain and pleasure that only he could give. She counted to pace her breathing. After confirming that Draco was in control and not going to attack, Lupin relaxed his wand arm and slowly lowered it.

“However…” Draco stepped forward from the lamp post and slowly reached out, delicately lacing his fingers in Hermione’s. Her hand tingled at his touch, and she reflexively tightened her hold. Draco sent a mischievous glance towards Lupin. “I _don’t_ want a chaperone.” His expression morphed into one of disdain. “ _Werewolf_.”

Lupin moved to pounce right before they Disapparated with a crack.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Hermione almost toppled over from the sudden Side-Along Apparition to a nameless field, and Draco steadied her with a hand on her waist. Before she could catch her breath, his fingers were in her hair, grasping the back of her head. His erection pushed against her pelvis, and his tongue was in her mouth. She shoved her wand into her thigh holster and reached under his robe, around his chest and arms to pull him closer. His muscles flexed under his shirt as he touched her. They had time—more time than before thanks to Ron and Tonks—but she didn’t know how much.

She grabbed his rear, pressing him closer and eliciting a growl.

“How long?” she gasped into his mouth while his hands groped her body under her clothing, roughly squeezing everywhere he could. He was hungry, mauling her as if he were starving, which he probably was. It wasn’t fair. They never had enough time. Here he was, free of Voldemort, and they still didn’t have enough time.

“Don’t know,” he rasped, hungrily attacking her lips, chin, and jaw. She threaded her fingers through his hair.

She groaned into his mouth and he massaged her bum, lifting her so she could wrap her legs around him. He moved her over his erection and rolled his hips into her, giving little grunts and moans each time he thrust forward. She pulled his head back and sucked on his neck while he groaned. He dropped to his knees with a thud, overcome with pleasure. 

The way he pawed and grabbed at her with abandon, licking and kissing her skin, she felt he was trying to inhale her, to suck her inside of him, to commit the taste and feel of her to memory. The desperate moans and gasps and groans belied his intent. This would be their last chance, she could feel it. He was going to leave after the battle.

She grasped the sides of his head and broke the kiss, breathing heavily. His eyes blazed grey-silver at her.

“Don’t leave me.” Her voice broke, thick with emotion.

His brows furrowed, and Hermione felt his hot breath coming out in pants. But he didn’t say anything.

“Don’t you leave me,” she repeated more forcefully, her hands trembling with emotion. She felt tears form; she didn’t want him to leave. How could she make him stay?

His face fell, and his voice broke. “There’s no future. Don’t talk about it. Just let me…” He tightened his arms around her, lowered his face to her neck and shuddered. “Just let me.”

Draco lifted his head to kiss her again, and she felt his need and desperation in the movements of his lips and tongue. He squeezed her rear, her upper thigh, her breast, and he shook. His tongue swept through the corners of her mouth as he kissed her deeply and thoroughly. His hands roamed her body, rough and tender, and he inhaled her scent with a shuddering gasp. She was hot and wet between her legs. He would smell her arousal over the garlic.

Suddenly, his whole body tensed and went rigid. Hermione could feel the transition from lover to predator. He ripped her scarf away, and she felt the cold night air on her neck. His head pulled away from her grasp to bite her. Adrenaline raced through her body as she reached for her wand.

_“Incarcerous Argentum!”_

Silver ropes bound his arms and chest, and she toppled to the ground before him, no longer held upright by his arms.

She laid on her back, chest heaving, staring up at the night stars. She felt cold and empty at the sudden loss of his chest, his arms, his lips, and his heat. Draco gritted his teeth in pain and looked down at her. The silver burned through his clothing and his flesh disintegrated through his shirt, exposing muscle.

“I wish I didn’t have to hurt you,” she said as she raised herself to her knees.

His eyes flashed with inhuman silver.

“Worth it,” he rasped.

She swallowed and cupped his chin tenderly. “I have to get back.”

“So soon?” He turned into her hand and made to bite her wrist, teasing her, but she could see the sadness and desperation in his eyes.

“We need to plan our attack.” She flicked her eyes to his mouth, still feeling his hot, panting kisses from mere minutes before. “Tomorrow night, I think. Voldemort will be desperate to find Nagini and the traitor. We have to exploit their confusion. Listen in when you’re ready so you know what to do.”

He nodded in agreement and suddenly bent over in pain with a muffled cry.

“I’m so sorry!” she cried as she stood, not able to bear watching him like this. “I’m leaving now.”

“Wait!” he called out, gazing up at her. He lowered his voice. “One more.”

She stilled.

“Please,” he whispered, fangs exposed.

Hermione bent down, cradled his face in her hands, and gave him a slow, sweet, tender kiss on the lips. He whimpered into her mouth as she pulled away, and she felt a tear fall down her cheek. She never thought further than the war, but what kind of life could he lead? Breaking away, she pressed her forehead to his and whispered, “When the war is over, we will solve this. Don’t you dare leave me.”

He nodded silently.

“Don’t you dare.”

She Disapparated with a crack.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Everyone turned around as Hermione entered 12 Grimmauld Place. They were all bent over the kitchen table, studying the fortress layouts provided by Draco.

“See?” Tonks admonished Harry and Ron. “She already handled him without a wand. Why do you think she needs help when fully armed?” Hermione gave Tonks an appreciative smile as she entered the kitchen from the foyer. Tonks glanced across the table at Lupin with a smirk. “Some of us like a little danger now and then.” He raised an eyebrow in return.

Harry let his head drop to the table with a thunk. “Can we not?” his muffled voice begged.

Bill laughed and reached across the table to the bowl of corn nuts.

Hermione looked around the kitchen, glad things had returned to normal. It seemed that Bill and Tonks were able to talk some sense into them. She wished she could give that sense of normalcy among friends and family to Draco. He was alone. Completely and utterly alone. She would help him after the war.

After the war.

And they were going to win.

“Tonks?” The Metamorphagus looked up at her. “Can we attack tomorrow night? Can the other safe houses prepare in time if we give them plans by the morning? We have to exploit the confusion caused by Nagini’s disappearance.”

“Yes, that’s also what Remus suggested.” Tonks stood and began casting Patronus charms. “They should be ready. They’ve all been on high alert and waiting for attack plans since Malfoy’s last visit. I’ll find out in 10 minutes.”

A series of silvery, scruffy dogs blasted out of her wand while Hermione slid into an empty chair. She flattened one of the parchments with the fortress layouts out on the table. “Okay, what do you have so far?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is the final battle!


	17. Chapter 17 - Alternate ending

**Chapter 17 – Alternate ending**

Hermione crouched between Harry and Ron at the edge of the fortress’ wards, watching Draco manipulate them. Tonks had suggested he alter them so that the Order could get in, but no one could get out. Not by Floo, Apparition, or Portkey. With the advantage of Draco’s power and speed, they could finish this war once and for all. No one would leave except as a prisoner.

Draco lowered his hand and turned back, eyes glittering down at her. “For you.”

The look he gave her pulled on her heart, and her throat constricted as she held back tears. She would help him when this was over. She wouldn’t abandon him to an eternity of solitude. He waved his hand, and a Death Eater mask appeared on his face. She shivered. He had always been terrifying when he was dressed as one of them. She remembered running into him when Hogwarts fell.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

_Hermione had gotten separated from Neville. She couldn’t reach him after the blast tore apart and crumbled the classroom wall, blocking the fourth floor corridor. But she had confidence that he could hold his own against the Death Eater trapped on the other side with him. Hopefully he would find someone else to comb Hogwarts’ grounds with._

_Voldemort’s raid came one hour earlier than their intelligence had relayed. There were still a few students and professors that had missed the Order-supervised evacuation earlier this evening. Now, the ten missing people had to be located and extricated as soon as possible. She had three Portkeys to a safe house with her for precisely this eventuality. She hoped they would be enough._

_The Order had no contingency plan aside from the Portkeys and no way of communicating with each other except via her Dumbledore’s Army Galleons. She felt isolated without Neville and unsure as to what to do and where to go. The Order really needed a better way of communicating during missions. Muggles had radios and headsets for military operations. She was certain they could come up with something quicker than her Galleons if they spent some time thinking about it._

_Hogwarts was a maze full of alcoves, rooms, and passageways. How would she find ten people that didn’t want to be found? Had any of them already escaped? Was someone checking the exits? Again, if they had a way of communicating with each other in real time, she’d have the answers to these questions._

_She had to do something. If she were a scared student, she might head for something familiar like the dorms. They were also guarded by portraits with passwords, so the students might be under the impression that the portraits offered protection, even though a portrait couldn’t do much against a wizard threatening to blast it to pieces. The Death Eaters might be making their way towards the dorms as well, but that was a chance she’d have to take._

_She cast Disillusionment and Silencing charms on herself and sprinted to Gryffindor Tower. Out of breath from climbing the stairs, she revealed herself to the Fat Lady, whose eyes widened in surprise._

_“Miss Granger!”_

_“I’m here to get the students out.” She gasped for breath, surreptitiously glancing back over her shoulder. “Is there anyone in there? I don’t know the password.”_

_“Yes, there are four!” She opened the door. “Hurry!”_

_Hermione didn’t need to be told twice. She jumped into the common room as the portrait hole closed behind her and cast a quick Homenum Revelio. They were in the boys’ dormitories. She sprinted up the stairs yelling that it was Hermione Granger come to get them out. A dark haired, black eyed prefect she recognized but couldn’t remember the name of (Samuel, maybe?) and three terrified first years came out of the bathrooms._

_“Here!” She fumbled in her jacket for the cloth-wrapped stone Portkeys. “Do you know where any of the others are?”_

_“No,” Samuel answered, agitated and clasping the shoulders of one of the younger children protectively. “But one was a Slytherin, a third year, maybe? She may be in the dungeons if she’s not with Flitwick. She ran away, I couldn’t get her in time.”_

_She groaned inwardly at the thought of going all the way to the dungeons. If the student was with Flitwick, she felt confident that he would have gotten her out in some way, but a student alone would be hiding. She took one stone out and placed it on the floor, removing the cloth and backing away. “It’s a Portkey. Hold hands and touch it.”_

_Samuel’s dark eyes scrutinized her. “You’re not coming?”_

_Hermione shook her head. “Not yet. Get them out of here.”_

_“Thank you, Hermione.”_

_She nodded and they disappeared. Two Portkeys left. Breathlessly, she took out her Galleon and saw the message “2 out kitchens RW.” She signaled back “4 out G tower HG. Where NL?” Only four people left. She stuffed the Galleon back into her pocket and prepared to make the trek to the exact opposite end of the castle when she heard the portrait hole blow open. Her stomach dropped, and she threw herself behind the door to the boys’ dorms so as not to be seen._

Shit.

_She peeked around the corner and was momentarily saddened by the loss of the Fat Lady, the remains of her portrait and frame scattered on the floor. She tried to cast a non-verbal Homenum Revelio but failed; she had never practiced that spell non-verbally. It didn’t matter anyway. She could hear several people stalking around the common room and muttering to each other._

“Homenum Revelio!”

_She froze. Now they would know that she was by herself. Her heart raced, thudding against her ribcage, and adrenaline pumped through her veins. She was cornered with nowhere to go. If she didn’t think of a brilliant idea in the next few seconds, she’d have to use a Portkey on herself. She thought of the lone Slytherin child, terrified in the castle, and hoped she wouldn’t have to leave._

_“You’re outnumbered!” one of the intruders jeered. “Come out and we promise not to hurt you!”_

_“Much,” another one added in a low voice. Cruel laughter sounded from below._

_Taking a deep breath, Hermione cast a non-verbal shield around herself as footsteps approached the staircase. Before they could come charging up the stairs, she fired off a series of indiscriminate Stunners and blasting spells. There was shattering of glass, splintering of wood, crunch of stone, and cursing of the men in the common room as she relentlessly fired in their direction._

_She didn’t know if she hit anyone, but it provided cover and confusion. Jets of colored light were fired in her direction as well, but Hermione was hidden behind the wall and kept her shield up. She chanced a peek, still casting, and saw one of the men on the ground by the stairs. He had been hit, but she couldn’t see anything else. She cast a stream of smoke to further obscure their vision and threw herself to the ground, trying to see around the wall._

_Three left._

_She fired as fast as she could, only her arm exposed around the corner of the wall she hid behind, hoping that eventually the others would get hit._

_“Expelliarmus!” Her wand flew from her hand, and the Death Eater who had caught it came charging up the stairs towards her, long legs and heavy boots taking the stairs three at a time._

_“Nice shot, kid!” A gruff voice praised her attacker._

_She ran back into the dorms, slamming door after door behind her, upending chairs and desks to create obstacles, and throwing whatever objects she could find—picture frames, books, even a broomstick—at the Death Eater’s head as he blasted through each door. Having nowhere else to go, she backed into a corner while he ducked the last of the flying objects, narrowly avoiding them. She reached into her pocket for one of the Portkeys when he suddenly stopped moving and stared at her, pointing his wand at the ceiling between them. She watched in morbid curiosity, hand poised on the cloth of the Portkey. Why the ceiling?_

_“Incarcerous!”_

_She jumped as the ropes shot out of his wand, hit the ceiling, and fell uselessly to the ground. Hermione looked wide eyed at the Death Eater’s mask, confused and breathing heavily._

_“Diffindo!” he shouted. “Confrigo!”_

_She stared in shock as bits of ceiling and rock fell onto the beds and floor between them. Without missing a beat, he tossed her wand at her feet, turned around, and ran back out the way he came._

_Draco._

_“She’s dead,” she heard him say, shoving the approaching Death Eaters back through the hallway and down the stairs. “Wake Mulciber. Let’s head back to see if we can find any more.”_

_She heard them rouse the Death Eater at the base of the stairs. Slowly, she picked up her wand and held it to her chest, breathing heavily as adrenaline coursed through her body._

_“Who was it?” one of them asked, his voice loud enough to carry upstairs._

_“Fuck if I know,” was Draco’s irreverent reply as they all stalked out of the tower._

_Feverishly, Hermione checked her Galleon. It read: “NL with NT and RL”. She swiped it and another message appeared. “3 out Hag cabin NL.” Only one left. It was probably that little Slytherin girl. She counted to 100, hoping it would give Draco and whoever he was with enough time to create distance between them and her. She sent one last message. “HG to dungeons.”_

_She recast the Silencing and Disillusionment charms on herself, bounded down the stairs, and with a forlorn glance at the havoc her fight had wreaked on her common room, headed out the shattered exit. She was silent but did her best to hug the walls during her descent to the dungeons. The Portkeys in her pocket provided some reassurance as to her safety, but if she were knocked out, she wouldn’t be able to use them._

_She heard a few Death Eaters heading around the corner and ducked into a classroom, hoping they wouldn’t cast the Revelio charm. They walked briskly down the corridor, arguing about how useless the raid was and that no one was here anyway. Hermione let out a sigh of relief. If they were unmotivated and resentful, they wouldn’t do a thorough job looking for anyone. She waited, heart pounding, as they passed her classroom, voices echoing down the hallway. After she had some distance between herself and them, she_ _backtracked to take a different path down to the dungeons._

_After another narrow miss, she finally made it down to the dungeons and stood before the Snake Charmer portrait, seething in anger over his obstinance. At least she knew the girl was inside. The portrait had teased her arrogantly and let that slip by mistake._

_“We don’t let filth into these dormitories.” The Snake Charmer glared imperiously down at her, and she felt her temperature rise. She didn’t have time for this and didn’t want to draw attention to her location by blasting the bloody bigoted portrait to smithereens._

_“Surely you know the danger she’s in. Let me in, and I’ll get her out.”_

_“I can provide her more protection than you can, Mudblood,” the portrait sneered at her._

_Hermione blew air out of her nose in frustration and tried a different tactic._

_“I thought Slytherins prided themselves on self-preservation. They’ll destroy you just like they did the Fat Lady guarding students in the Gryffindor common room.”_

_She could see the Snake Charmer_ _mulling this over. “I’ll let them in. They won’t harm her. She’s a pure-blood_ _.”_

_She scoffed at the portrait. “Voldemort threatens children to coerce their parents. You and I both witnessed that last year. Did being pure-blood protect Draco Malfoy?”_

_The Snake Charmer curled his lip in disgust but didn’t answer._

_“You know she’s right.”_

_Hermione whirled around to see a Death Eater leaning against the wall, idly watching their conversation and twirling his wand around his fingers. She knew it was Draco from the sound of his voice, but that didn’t stop the mask and robes from causing a jolt of fear._

_She watched him lean back to check the corridor behind him. He cast a revealing charm before sauntering slowly over to the common room entrance. The Snake Charmer eyed the Death Eater with distrust._

_Draco lowered his voice threateningly. “I suggest you open up before I blast the wall in. Either way, she’s going through.”_

_The Snake Charmer simmered with rage, but the door creaked open. Draco turned his masked face to her, gave a mock bow, and extended his arm so she could pass through._

_She leaned forward to give a brief kiss to the side of his head over his hood. He smelled like war. Quickly, she whispered, “She’s the last one. Blast the portrait after I leave, it’ll betray you.”_

_He stood up and nodded, looking down at her from his imposing height. She knew it was him, but his cloaked and masked stature was still terrifying._

_“Draco?”_

_“Yeah?”_

_The words of the portrait angered her. She remembered that he had allowed himself to be punished by Greyback to protect his mother, and desperately wished he could come with her._

_“Please take care of yourself.” She sucked in a breath and looked up at him imploringly. “And come to us when you can.”_

_The masked figure didn’t move, didn’t make a sound. She lowered her eyes and ran into the common room to find the girl._

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Draco gazed down at her through his mask before disappearing in a silent flash to take out the exterior fortress guard. She felt a sense of completeness now that he was finally fighting with her, on her side, in the final battle.

A few seconds passed, and then Ron made a noise of disbelief in his throat.

“What?” Harry asked.

“It’s unnatural,” Ron answered. “That much power. We wouldn’t be able to disable those wards, let alone _alter_ them without several hours of work and prior intelligence.”

Hermione didn’t have an answer to Ron’s comment, but she agreed with him. Draco’s level of power was absurd. He could die tonight if someone cast a sunlight projection fast enough, but there was no balance to the sheer intensity and force that came with his increased abilities.

“What if…” Ron continued. “What if Voldemort were a vampire?”

“Or if he used them?” Harry asked pensively. “Found a way to control wizard vampires?”

“He’d be nearly unstoppable,” Ron answered. “But this ends tonight, right?” He didn’t sound sure of himself, and Hermione felt uneasy as well. What was to stop someone, anyone really, from willingly becoming a wizard vampire just for the power?

As if reading Ron’s thoughts, Harry said, “We’ll take down this Dark Lord and another one will pop up, finding power and immortality much easier than this one did.”

Hermione sighed in resignation. They were right. There was really only one way to prevent that from happening. “We’re going to have to _Obliviate_ everyone left alive when this is over. Just of Draco’s part in this, and his abilities.”

She felt them tense beside her.

“You’re scary, Hermione.” Harry spoke. “You know that, don’t you?”

“I’m right though.”

“Yeah,” he reluctantly agreed. “You usually are.”

The three of them crouched on the ground, so close to one another that the garlic they had smeared on their necks smelled even stronger. She took their hands and brought them up to her chest. They had fought together, side by side, since they were kids. She couldn’t believe it. It had been over a decade of fighting Voldemort together. It wasn’t that she would miss the war, or miss the fighting, but she knew that if all went well it would be an end to an era.

Their era. Things would never be the same again.

“This is it,” she said wistfully. Ron squeezed her hand, and Harry gave her a wry smile.

“I certainly hope so.” Harry’s glasses reflected the light of the fortress’ wards. It was completely silent. No screams, no alarms, nothing. She wondered if Draco had finished with the exterior guard and made it inside yet.

“So guys,” Ron said jovially. Hermione and Harry turned to him, wondering at his casual tone. “What do you want to do tomorrow?”*

“You mean,” Hermione ticked off tasks on her fingers, as if their to-do list were a simple set of errands. “After we win the war, Obliviate the entire Order and Voldemort’s army, treat the casualties, and ensure all the prisoners are secure and confined?”

“Yeah,” Ron raised an eyebrow at her. “After all that. Probably around 5 in the evening?”

She glared at him.

“Fine, 5:30.”

Harry chuckled at the levity. “Ice cream at Fortescue’s?”

“Flourish and Blotts?” Hermione suggested, smiling at the casual chit chat as if they weren’t about to storm the most heavily guarded fortress in the wizarding world and face off against Voldemort. Her two best friends made a face.

“Pick-up Quidditch match?” Ron added, giving her a meaningful look.

Hermione snorted. “How about the 15th of Never?”

“You know what?” Ron looked down on her imperiously. “You’re going to play.”

“What?” She sneered at him.

Harry coughed a laugh. “Good luck with that.”

“Yeah,” Ron continued, emboldened by her reaction. “Enough of this I-can’t-fly-brooms-are-dangerous.” His voice went up an octave, imitating her. “Starting tomorrow, you’re learning to fly.”

“Like hell I am,” she protested, but he cut her off. Harry’s laughs turned into guffaws.

“You’re learning to fly, and you’re playing Quidditch with us.”

“I’d sooner shove that broomstick up your—”

Harry fell over from laughing so hard.

“And you’re going to _like_ it.”

“Fuck. You. Ronald. Weasley.”

Harry clutched his stomach and struggled to come back to his crouched position. He started to wheeze. “I’d pay what’s left in my vault to—”

His comment was cut off as a silvery otter streaked past them and around the perimeter of the wards, alerting the Order that the battle had started. The fact that Draco’s Patronus was now her own was not lost on them. Adrenaline raced through her body, and she shared a meaningful look with her two boys. This was it. She saw other Order members quietly running towards the fortress, and the three of them stood up to do the same.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

She and Remus had been right: the fortress was in absolute chaos following Nagini’s disappearance, and their attack had exploited it. Voldemort’s army was completely unprepared. Some Death Eaters were without masks, and a few were even without wands. There didn’t appear to be any defensive strategy in place, and the trio simply picked off stray fighters as they saw them. They made their way to Voldemort’s central hold, where he was likely to make his last stand.

“Hermione!” Someone called her, and she and Ron whirled around, wands out while Harry kept facing forward, guarding the other direction.

Bill Weasley and Susan Bones sprinted over to them. Something wasn’t right. They were supposed to be clearing out the east wing with some others. As they approached, the hair on the back of her neck stood on end, and she lowered her wand. They both had frightened expressions on their faces.

“What’s wrong?” Harry asked, his voice tense.

“Dead,” Bill panted. “They’re all dead!”

Ron dropped his wand. “Who? The Order? They’re—”

“No!” Susan gasped, breathless. “The Death Eaters!”

“He’s not stunning them, Hermione,” Bill clarified. “He’s killing them all!”

With mounting horror, she turned towards the two bodies at the end of the passageway they were in. The trio had been ignoring the felled Death Eaters. She had assumed Draco had stunned them, blasted them into walls, whatever would be the quickest and least bloody. She didn’t think Draco would be killing them so mechanically.

“I can’t hear them breathing,” Bill said. Still hoping he was mistaken, she jogged over to one of the bodies and checked for a pulse.

Nothing.

She had used Draco like a weapon, but felt she had unwittingly detonated a nuclear bomb. She stood up, meeting Harry’s horrified eyes. “I have to find him.” Her voice shook with terror at what she had unleashed.

He lunged forward and grabbed her arm. “No,” he answered gruffly. “You should—”

“There’s no time!” She pulled her arm from his grasp, and he didn’t attempt to stop her again. “Bill, can you sniff him out? Lead me to him?”

“Probably, especially if he’s stopped to feed.”

She met Susan’s brown eyes as anxiety took over her. “Go with Harry and Ron. Bill and I will catch up to you after we find him.”

Ron protested. “Hermione, it’s not safe. You—”

“ _Nothing_ here is safe! You _know_ he has to be stopped! I’ll catch up with you!” She looked to Bill frantically. “Go!” After an apologetic glance towards Ron and Harry, he took off down a corridor. She followed him at a sprint.

“Hermione!” Ron screamed after her in vain. His voice echoed off the stone walls.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

“ _Reducto!_ ”

They heard a ping as the curse ricocheted, the spell ending in a sickening splat. She and Bill skidded to a halt and flattened themselves against the wall. Almost immediately, a thick, coppery smell filled the air. Bill growled, and she looked up at him. He was exhaling sharply through his teeth. This much blood put Lupin on edge as well.

Bill motioned with his head and whispered. “He wasn’t in there before, but he will be any second.”

Tentatively, she peered around the corner and saw Neville, alone and confused, standing in a mess of blood and viscera, partially covered with it.

“Neville!” she whispered loudly. “Come away from there now!” He looked up at her, an expression of disgust on his face, and she fired a quick scouring spell to clean him up.

“You okay?” Bill asked as Neville made his way over, shaking his head to clear the images of the Death Eater he had inadvertently exploded.

“Yeah.” He turned over his sleeves, his relief obvious that the mess was gone. “Thanks, Hermione.”

Quickly, she recast the silencing spells on his circulatory system. She looked to Bill. “Do you have any of that garlic oil on hand to rub on his neck?”

In a flash, Draco appeared in front of them, and they all jumped back. His fangs were out. Blood was smeared all over him and in his hair, and a low growl emanated from his chest. His eyes gleamed inhumanly silver, a stark contrast against the dark blood on his face. His robes were torn, and his hands were like claws, flexing as he eyed the three of them hungrily. Slowly, his eyes centered on her. A hint of familiarity flickered in his predatory gaze.

“Run!” he snarled at her while preparing to attack.

Bill tensed and let out a feral growl. Then, to her shock, instead of pulling his wand, he lunged at Draco like an animal. Draco sidestepped effortlessly and pushed Bill into the stone wall. He collided with a crack, fell to the ground, and lay still. She remembered that Lupin had been affected by Draco’s presence as well. Apparently, whatever effect vampires had on werewolves was much stronger when the vampire was in the midst of a bloodlust, as Draco was now. Bill had just lost it.

Draco slowly turned back to Hermione and Neville. He stalked towards them.

“Incar—” With lightning fast reflexes, he whacked her wand from her hand and knocked her to the ground, pinning her with his body.

“Neville!” she cried as the back of her head hit the floor. It all happened so fast. She had about a half second to breathe before Draco covered her mouth with his hand, wrenched her head to the side, and sunk his fangs into her neck. She felt a mixture of pain and pleasure as Draco sucked from her, grunting and rutting against the cradle of her hips like an animal. She whimpered and cried into his hand, body trembling as she tried to push him off. He was too strong and had her flattened against the floor, unable to move. With a scream, he toppled off of her, bound in silver.

Hermione scrambled to look for her wand and was tackled again. Draco crushed her backside, his chest pushing her stomach and breasts against the stone floor.

“Neville! Again!” she screamed.

Draco growled into her ear, tore her trousers with a painful tug, and wrenched them down past her knees just as Neville hit him with another binding spell.

“Again!” she yelled. Neville doubled the ropes, summoned her wand, and tossed it to her. She swiped it from the air and repaired her trousers. She walked to Draco, who had been blasted to the other side of the room. He writhed on the floor, gritting his teeth in pain.

She hit his legs with another binding spell for good measure, and he yelled in agony. “Rennervate Bill,” she told Neville. “He’ll be fine. It takes more than that to injure a werewolf.” She stood over Draco, confident he wouldn’t attack her again.

“You have to leave,” he growled up at her from the ground, exhaling heavily through his teeth, fangs bared. “There’s blood everywhere, I can’t—Uuuuunnnnggggghhhhhh!” His back arched in pain. Hermione watched the silver cut into his body.

“Draco,” she ordered. “Stop killing them.”

“What?” Tears were forming in his eyes. She had to make this quick; he couldn’t take much more of this.

“Stop killing them,” she repeated tonelessly.

“Hermione, if I hadn’t—”

“Do you want to be a monster?”

“I _am_ a monster,” he ground out. “That’s why I’m here.” He shuddered and writhed before catching his breath. “So you don’t have to be.”

“No!” Her eyes widened. Is that what he thought? “I’m responsible for this as much as you are. You don’t have to kill them. You are _not_ a monster. This is different, Draco. You have to stop.” She took a breath. “You are _not_ Greyback.”

He flinched, but looked back up at her, silver eyes gleaming through the dark blood on his face. She had gotten through to him.

“You are _not_ Greyback, do you hear me? Stun them.” She crouched down and looked directly into his silver, inhuman eyes. “Don’t lose yourself. You have a future.”

She saw his tears again, but didn’t know if it was from the physical pain or his despair in thinking that he did not have a future. He grunted and shifted in his bindings.

“Leave,” he gasped. “Please! I can’t—”

He clenched his teeth, then let loose with an agonized roar that chilled her bones. She turned back to see Neville and Bill watching in pity and revulsion.

“We’re going!” She jumped up, and the three ran as fast as they could, towards the fortress’ center where Ron, Harry, and Susan would be facing Voldemort.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

“What the hell is this?” Ron looked around dumbfounded at the circular room with multiple doors which resembled the Department of Mysteries.

Harry glanced towards Hermione. “This wasn’t on the map.”

Hermione cast her Patronus, one to Draco and one to Remus, back out the way they came. They’d need back up. “Let’s wait. They’ll be more prepared if they had time to—”

She didn’t finish her sentence. One of the doors opened, and the three were sucked inwards. The trio fell with a thud and a tangle of limbs as the door slammed behind them. Hermione pushed herself up and lifted her. Harry and Ron did the same at her back. They were surrounded by roughly fifteen Death Eaters. Voldemort stood at the edge of the circle, slowly walking around, eyeing the three of them.

“Time’s up, Tom,” Harry called out. “It’s over. Your Horcruxes are all destroyed.”

Voldemort’s thin lips curled upwards. If there was any fear or uncertainty in the Dark Lord, he hid it well, knowing his Death Eaters might betray him at the slightest sign of weakness. “I think not.”

“The fortress has fallen,” Harry said, speaking directly to the Death Eaters, changing tactics. “If you surrender now, you’ll all receive reduced sentences.”

“You don’t think I’ve planned for this?” Voldemort sneered. “There will be no surrender. Your Order will not find us, and your vampire will die.” He waved his wand between Ron and Hermione. “Which one should I kill first, Harry Potter?”

Hermione didn’t know if Voldemort was bluffing or not. She hoped her call for back up worked.

“How about both?” he said with a cruel smile.

The trio each cast shields, but multiple curses quickly broke through their defenses. Hermione was soon screaming on the floor with Ron under the effects of the Cruciatis. Second after agonizing second passed and just when she thought she couldn’t take it anymore, she heard an explosion. The pain stopped, and she felt warmed under a full body healing spell.

_Draco._

He was here. He came for her. The relief was short lived.

_“Lumos Sol!”_

Her heart stopped with the cry of several Death Eaters casting the spell at once. The room was suddenly filled with sunlight and she blinked, quickly trying to clear her vision. Where was he? She rolled over onto her stomach, turning round, frantically looking for him as Order members burst into the room, shouting curses. Too late, she saw a burst of flames between three felled Death Eaters. 

With an agonized cry, she pointed her wand at Draco and screamed, _“Partum umbra!”_

A ball of darkness left her wand and encased him. She stood up and held her breath as the blood pounded in her head. Did it work? Through the commotion and the curses flying, she could still hear his shrieks like knives through her heart. She hadn’t been fast enough! He was still burning! Her arm was shaking with the exertion of holding the eclipse spell in place. She had to put the flames out but needed to keep Draco shielded from the sunlight. It wasn’t enough! He was going to die!

She whirled around to Harry, but he was dueling with Voldemort. Curses were flying everywhere. Desperately, she cried to Ron next to her. “Ron! Put him out! He’s burning!”

Ron turned to her while she struggled to hold the eclipse spell in place. For a moment she thought he would ignore her and return to the battle. It was only a few days ago that he had just attempted to kill Draco. She gritted her teeth and held her wand with two hands. Tears began to stream down her eyes.

“Ron! Help me!” she pleaded

He shifted his gaze to where the flames could clearly be seen leaving the ball of blackness.

“Please!” she cried to him. “He doesn’t deserve this!”

His troubled expressions hardened into one of determination and he raised his wand.

 _“Aquamenti!”_ Ron yelled.

“Thank you,” she whispered. She closed her eyes in relief. Water poured from Ron’s wand towards the shadow that Hermione cast. She hoped it wasn’t too late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don’t worry. I already killed him off once. I won’t do that again.
> 
> *I totally took this conversation from the very last episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Best friends (Giles, Buffy, Xander, Willow), that had been fighting together since the beginning, facing what appears to be the final battle, discussing very casually what they wanted to do tomorrow. 
> 
> Seemed fitting.


	18. Chapter 18 - Alternate ending

**Chapter 18 – Alternate ending**

Nothing.

Emptiness.

Stillness.

He couldn’t see, hear, smell, or feel anything.

He just was.

_Drip._

_Drip._

_Drip._

Tiny drops, falling, making contact, absorbing, spreading. A trickle of warmth diffused throughout his being. It nourished him, healed him, gave him form.

He swallowed. He tasted. He could smell now. He could hear voices. And he felt blood thrumming and pumping all around him. His blood. Others’ blood. He expanded and, bit by bit, could sense and feel his surroundings. He was becoming whole again.

It was _her._ He could smell, hear, and taste _her_. She was giving him life. He was drinking. She was so close. He reached out, grabbed her flesh, and sunk his fangs into the meat of her. Suckling from her. Feeding from her. It was glorious. He had never felt so filled, so intoxicated with her essence.

“You owe us big time for this, Hermione.”

Finally he could see, and Draco looked up into her worried hazel eyes, never releasing her arm. He grunted as he fed and swallowed hungrily. A powerful orgasm rushed through his body and released its hold. Her eyes watched, lustfully, and he kept feeding from her. He would never get enough of her.

“Fucking hell. I can’t unsee that.”

“Quit whining both of you.”

Suddenly, pain seared his body, and he screamed. Three pairs of eyes gazed down at him curiously: green, blue, and hazel. Another arm was presented to him, and he struggled to reach it through the pain. Draco’s bonds were released, and he grabbed the male arm and sunk his fangs into the taught muscle with a grunt and began to feed again.

“There are not enough Quidditch matches in the world to make up for this.”

He watched her drink a blue liquid, still eyeing him. He wanted her instead of the male, but she disappeared from his vision.

Slowly, he felt the haze of hunger dissipate. Clarity came to his senses. He pulled the arm out of his mouth and retracted his fangs, suddenly realizing who he was with, and who he was feeding from.

_Wonderful._

But at least he wasn’t ash.

He sneered and spit to the side. “I don’t think I’ll ever get the taste of you out of my mouth, Weasley.”

The ginger popped the cork of another vial with blue liquid, chugged it down, and raised his eyebrows mockingly. “S’okay Malfoy. I know I’m irresistible.”

Draco lifted himself and looked down the length of his naked body to see that he had spent himself on his thigh. Probably twice. His erection was slowly receding. He let his head fall back on the table with a thud and exhaled loudly, feeling slightly embarrassed. “You were slobbering all over Harry as well.” Draco shifted his gaze to Potter’s arm and saw him holding a bloodied bandage to his wrist.

“I’d prefer to forget this ever happened,” the Chosen One said with an exaggerated shudder. “There’s not a memory charm strong enough to remove the image of Malfoy naked and grunting against your arm like that.”

“Don’t be _jealous_ , Potter” Draco said with a smirk. “You taste better than you look.” His grin widened as Potter and Weasley each took a cautious step back.

Hermione returned, Scourgified him, and draped a blanket to cover his legs and lower torso. She hugged him, exhaling a shuddering breath as she did. He instinctually wrapped his arms around her warm, supple body and dug his hands into her hair, loosened from the tight bun she’d worn into battle. She kissed his cheek and whispered into his ear, “We thought we’d lost you.”

“Yeah, that would have been terrible,” Weasley quipped. Without missing a beat, Hermione smacked his stomach with the back of her hand.

She pulled away, and he saw unshed tears in her eyes.

Draco swiveled himself to a sitting position on the table, legs dangling over the edge and keeping the blanket covering his privates. He looked at the Golden Trio. “So that’s it then?”

“That’s it,” Potter answered.

How odd. The three of them together at the end and… Him. He supposed the irony was not lost on them.

And what now?

Hermione reached out gently to clasp his fingers. He looked down at their hands in thought, rubbing the palm of her hand with the pad of his thumb. Every time they had met on the field, she had asked him to come and promised she would be there for him.

And here she was.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

_Dolohov pressed Draco against the wall while Rowle pointed his wand into his throat. Draco swallowed with difficulty, the wand tip injuring his Adam’s apple._

_“You fucked up, Malfoy!” Dolohov hissed._

_His only fuck up was allowing himself to be in a position where he could be blamed for Dolohov and Rowle’s failure in the first place. They would face the Dark Lord’s wrath when he found out the Order had freed all their prisoners. They were hoping to either minimize their own punishment by involving Draco, or pass it off onto him entirely. Draco winced as Dolohov’s elbow pushed into his bicep._

_“I should kill you now and leave your carcass for the blood traitors.” Rowle backed away, anger and fear flashing in his brown eyes. Draco braced himself, but there was no way to prepare for what he knew was coming._

_“_ Crucio! _”_

_Draco screamed and dropped to the floor as white hot pain scorched his bones and flesh. His back arched, and his limbs splayed out to the side as his body contorted in agony. Suddenly, it stopped. He gasped for breath and rolled onto his side, clutching himself as tremors passed through._

_“_ Crucio! _”_

_Another scream ripped from his chest and out of his throat as the torture wracked his body. He tasted blood in his mouth and dug his fingers into the stone floor. Seconds ticked by slowly. He didn’t know how much longer he could survive when an explosion blasted him through a door, flinging him against a wall in the adjacent room. His back slammed into stone, and he landed on his front._

_Now freed from the Cruciatis, Draco tried to stand, but his head swam, having just sustained a head injury. His body was such a mess of pain that he couldn’t locate any specific wound but he knew something was terribly wrong with his leg. Looking down, he saw wood from the door protruding from his thigh. He felt like he was going to vomit, but passed out instead._

_Draco woke up to a nervous tapping sound. He was lying on his back. He tried to swallow, but his mouth was too dry. His leg, head, and back hurt, but it wasn’t the mind-numbing pain that he had experienced prior to losing consciousness. His hand twitched reflexively, and he felt small, warm fingers resting in his palm. Confused, he opened his eyes a crack but only saw the ceiling of the room he had been thrown into. He tried to raise himself onto his elbows. The tapping stopped, and the small fingers rubbed his knuckles gently._

_“Wait,” advised a soft, feminine voice. “Don’t move yet.”_

Hermione?

_A coil of desire spread through his body in anticipation, despite his pain and discomfort. Leaning back down, he heard a shuffling of fabric as her face appeared above him, a worried look creasing her brow. Her hair was tied back in a tight bun._

_She placed her warm hands on his cheeks and looked into his eyes, humming as she assessed him for a concussion and spinal injury. Draco tried to relax as she poked and prodded him with her hands and her wand, but his muscles were still tense after the effects of the Cruciatis and being thrown bodily into this room. Finally, he felt the tip of her wand press against the side of his abdomen. Warmth entered his side, radiated outward, and spread throughout his body._

_He sighed audibly, feeling his muscles relax. With difficulty, he rolled his broad shoulders and extended his legs, stretching his back, flexing his muscles experimentally._

_“Thank—” he rasped, his dry throat choking on the words._

_She conjured a cup of water for him to drink, helping raise his head and holding the cup to his lips. Cool water soothed his parched throat. He drank thirstily, swallowing in loud gulps. She tilted the cup more, and he swallowed too much. Draco coughed, turned his head to the side, and sprayed the water on the stone floor._

_“Sorry.”_

_He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and looked up into her hazel eyes._

_“S’okay.”_

_“No really, I’m sorry. I’m the one who blasted you through the door,” she said, apprehensive at her confession._

_He raised his eyebrows in a question. “Did you get Rowle and Dolohov?”_

_She looked affronted. “Of course.”_

_He smiled inwardly. “Worth it.” He took another sip of water and eyed her small figure. She sat next to him, leaning against the stone wall._

_Petite and deadly._

_She pursed her lips, staring straight forward in thought. Then she looked back down at him. “You’re all in masks. I can’t pull my punches thinking it might be you.”_

_“And so you shouldn’t.” He furrowed his brows at her in annoyance. “Ever.”_

_“I would never intentionally—” Her tone was apologetic._

_“I know,” he assured her, lightly squeezing her fingers. “Don’t ever hold back.”_

_After a few minutes of silence, she spoke again. “Draco?”_

_Hope strained her voice and pulled on his heart. Made him despair. He wanted to go with her. He wanted to get out. But he didn’t know how to do it without leaving his parents to be tortured and killed. “Nothing’s changed, Hermione. I can’t go with you.”_

_She nodded in reluctant acceptance. He knew she wouldn’t stop asking._

_“Every time I’m out in the field, ever since Greyback,”—Draco flinched after she spoke his name—“I wonder if it’s you I’m hitting. Sometimes I dream…” Her voice tapered off and he saw her throat constrict as she swallowed and blinked back tears. “It’s terrible. I want to help you.”_

_“I know.” He knew that she cared about him, cared quite a lot, but it still warmed him to hear her talk of thinking about him in this way. Worrying about him._

_He struggled to_ _sit, supporting himself on his elbows when he noticed another body across the room, unmoving. “Who’s that?” He tilted his chin in the female body’s direction._

_Hermione turned to the unconscious person. “Hannah Abbot,” she answered. “She has a head injury, much worse than yours. I stabilized her but can’t Apparate or Portkey us out. Travel might cause her permanent damage. I’m waiting for a Healer to come and treat her so it will be safe to do so. It’ll be a while. They’re busy healing the prisoners.”_

_Draco processed the information. He trusted her to ensure that he wasn’t taken by the Order unless he asked. She knew he was protecting his parents. He slipped his hand under her leg and clenched her thigh possessively. It was warm. He felt her muscles tense, but she didn’t remove his hand. He inched it higher and felt his cock twitch when she bit her lip in reaction._

_He turned his head to her. It hurt, and a wave of dizziness washed over him from the elevation. So he lay back down, turning to face her. “What happened?”_

_She repositioned herself so that she was lying on the floor beside him. Her thigh slid out of his grasp, and she brought his empty hand up to her lips. “We extracted all the prisoners. The Order secured the building and took a few captives from your side. It’s just us here now. There’s four patrolling outside.”_

_Aside from the part where he had blacked out, there must have been less than five minutes from the time when they realized the prisoner compound was being raided, to the realization that they had already lost most of the prisoners. Sheer panic had ensued, leading to Draco being Crucio’d._

_There were no frills. No excess._

_He quirked an eyebrow suspiciously at her, trying not to wince from the pain in his leg. “Did you have a hand in…” He gestured vaguely around him. “This?” The Order had known the routines, the alarms, the wards, and the layout of the compound better than Voldemort’s army had. It was an uncharacteristically brutal and efficient operation, timed impeccably. Someone had done their homework. An extremely well researched raid._

_“Yes,” she said with a mirthless chuckle. “This is the first time they gave me a senior role in planning an operation of this magnitude. I’m still learning” She looked into his eyes again, assessing him, worried. “I can’t do much else for you without potions. My knowledge of healing is limited.” She bit her lip in thought. “I could do another muscle relaxant charm— a weak one.”_

_He thought of the warm feeling that coursed through his body earlier, easing the tension caused by his pain. But he knew they were dangerous when overused. “Yeah, maybe one more. That would help.”_

_Hermione raised her wand between their bodies and murmured the incantation, pressed the tip to his chest. Draco’s eyelids momentarily closed as warmth suffused from his chest, spreading outwards through his limbs. His leg stopped hurting, and he let out a quiet moan of relief._

_He opened his eyes again and saw her studying him. Her lips moved softly against his fingertips, giving him little tingles of warmth and arousal. He wished his back and head weren’t so injured. He’d crawl on top of her and kiss her until she moaned. It had been so long since anyone had touched him with affection. Since their gentle kiss in the woods._

_“Draco?” she whispered. He brought his hand to her cheek, gently rubbing her skin. She looked nervous, unsure of herself, and he waited for her to continue. “I saw what they do… What they_ did _to the prisoners. If I were captured…” She paused and stared into his eyes, looking for something. “I don’t want to be a virgin. To have that ruined for me. I want to have a good memory with someone I….” She paused, looking for the correct words. “With someone I care about_ _.”_

 _A dam inside of him broke, and his cock pressed against the confines of his trousers. Hermione must have seen the lust on his face. She slowly moved on top of him, draping one leg around his hip, slithering astride him. Her warm body was all over him, and he struggled to move, trying to hold her still so he could kiss her face, jaw, and neck, grab her and rub her over him at the same time. He tried to roll them over so he could be on top. He needed her. Wanted to make it good for her. Wanted her to have this with him forever. Just like she wanted. Just like_ he _wanted. His back protested the movement, however, and he lay_ _back down with a grunt._

_“Draco.” She panted his name in between breathless kisses. “Draco?”_

_“Mmmmphhfffff_ _.” He couldn’t manage to answer._

_“You don’t—” She groaned as his lips found her ear and sucked. “You don’t have to move. I don’t care, I just want y—”_

_He cut her off with a desperate, heated kiss, and her words turned into a groan. He clutched the back of her thigh and her rear. He couldn’t get enough of her, skimming his fingers into her hair, under her shirt, beneath her waistline. He dug his fingers into her arse, into her breasts, anywhere he could feel her soft flesh. He was rock hard and thrust up into the heat between her legs._

_“Always wanted you…” He spoke softly, trying to push her trousers down._

_He’d forgotten that touch could be pleasurable. The only sex he had seen or experienced himself since Sixth Year had been coerced and painful_ _. Greyback, Muggles and Muggle-borns, blood traitors. For him, for them, it was always a punishment. He had come to loathe anything sexual and felt nausea at the mere thought of being touched in that way._

_But this was different. It was warm and comforting, pure and loving_ _. He tasted her breath, captured the feel of her skin, swallowed her moans. Their bodies were entwined on the floor, and her mouth and hands were on his face, his throat, under his clothing. She was hot and needy. She pulled his trousers down and he whimpered as she lowered herself onto him. It was too slow; he wanted her. His arms trembled as he gripped her hips, doing all he could not to thrust forward, up and into her. Just when he thought he couldn’t take it anymore she sank onto him and she gasped. He gave her a moment to adjust. Her heat was everywhere. He was encased. Surrounded. He shuddered as she settled_ _flush on top of him. He dug his fingers into her flesh and she winced._

_“Sorry,” he panted into her mouth._

_“Don’t be,” was her breathy response. And she moved, and he groaned, and she keened. He reached down between her legs, trying to get at her clit. He wanted to make it good for her._

_“No.” She groaned and flattened herself against him, grabbing his hand and moving it back to her rear. “I want to feel your skin. Want to feel you.”_

_He’d give her whatever she wanted. He licked and sucked on her neck, eliciting a whimper as_ _he matched her thrusts, trying to create friction for her. Her thighs clenched around him and he moved as much as his pained back would allow._

_“Oh. Yes. J_ _ust like that.” Hermione rubbed her cheek against his and gasped again. He kept thrusting into her. Her mouth was on his throat, and he dug his fingers into her hair, pulling it out of her bun. Her legs wrapped round his, her hands and mouth everywhere. She slipped against him, both of them sweating from their combined heat, when suddenly, she stopped. Hermione shuddered. A half moan, half gasp caught in her throat as she fell apart around him._

_Draco held her tight while she trembled atop him. One arm across her back, holding her flush against him, and the other clutching the back of her skull, fingers pressing into her. He sobbed a moan as his release burst into her. And he still held her tight. He didn’t want to let her go. His arms flexed and tensed as he kept her molded to him atop his body._

_She let him hold her long after her trembling stopped and tenderly—so tenderly—she kissed his tears away. Her lips pressed gentle, soft kisses on his cheeks, on his eyelids, on his forehead. He let out another sob and clutched her tightly. He wanted it to always be like this. He couldn’t go back to where every touch meant pain._

_“Don’t go,” he pleaded._

_“Sssshhhhh.” She kissed and nuzzled his face. “I’m with you. It’s okay.”_

_It was okay now, in these precious few minutes that she was here. It wouldn’t be when she left. It would end, and he’d have to go back._

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

“You’re free,” Hermione said, her voice lilting.

Draco bit his lip in thought. He was finally able to come to her, but he couldn’t stay. He couldn’t be with her. He sighed. It was all over, and they still didn’t have time to be together.

“Not entirely.”

“I’m going to solve this.” Hermione looked into his eyes determinedly and clutched his hand tighter. “Wolfsbane helps Bill and Lupin live normal lives. Don’t do anything…” She paused a few seconds before choosing her next word. “Stupid.” Her words hung in the air in between them.

“Even if you help me, what then? I’m still a vampire. I’ll be 23 forever. It’s a solitary existence.” He swallowed thickly. He had no friends, no family, and he couldn’t start one of his own. He couldn’t give Hermione children. They couldn’t even stay together. Even if they could keep his blood lust under control, she’d grow old and eventually die. And he’d have to watch.

“You have family.” Potter’s voice interrupted his thoughts.

Draco shifted his gaze to him. He thought the Order knew. “My parents—”

“You have an aunt and a cousin that are extremely curious about you,” Potter explained. Draco briefly remembered Tonks from their previous meetings discussing battle strategies.

“She’s married to Lupin,” Hermione added. “They have a little boy, Teddy.” Draco’s eyebrows rose in surprise. He knew next to nothing about those his family had disowned. “He’ll need someone to teach him how to fly a broom in a few years,” she continued, seeing the curious interest in his eyes. “Life goes on, and there will be more people in your life. They’ve already got a werewolf in the family. I don’t think it’s a stretch to accept a vampire who is in control of himself.”

“You’re awfully optimistic,” Draco drawled, but couldn’t help but feel a bit less alone.

“We just killed Voldemort and won the Second Wizarding War.” Weasley looked at Draco as if he had grown another head. “Of course we are.”

“And you have friends,” Hermione added. Weasley coughed loudly, and Potter looked extremely uncomfortable, but held his gaze. Draco rolled his eyes.

_Gryffindors._

She was right, though. The future didn’t feel as bleak anymore. And yet, there was no way he could be with Hermione. It wasn’t fair to her. He had to let her go so she would move on. He ran a hand through his hair and exhaled slowly.

“I can’t, Hermione.” An expression of relief appeared on Weasley’s face while Potter regarded him with respect.

Hermione’s face fell. “You promised you wouldn’t leave.”

“I’ll still be around, but not like that. Not with you.”

“Give me time.” She was pleading with him, but his eyes held hers in a steely gaze.

“I have time. Too much of it.”

“Do you still want to be with me?”

“More than anything.”

“Then let me help you.”


	19. Epilogue, What Epilogue?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter notes:
> 
> This chapter has some fun Easter eggs – references to vampire pop culture. Some are obvious, some not so much. See how many you can guess. Answers in the Chapter notes at the end.

**Epilogue, What Epilogue?**

_Three Years Later…_

Draco opened his eyes and sat up with a start, knocking the blanket covering him to the floor. His surroundings were completely unfamiliar. This was not the cave in the Philippines where he had laid himself to rest before sunrise. He was sitting naked on someone’s couch, in a small living room. He was alone here, but Hermione’s smell was everywhere. This must be her flat in London. Immediately, he felt the beginnings of hunger and lust stir in his body from her smell. He glanced to the side. The windows were charmed not to let sunlight in, but it was past sunset anyway. He could feel it, even with the time change.

He didn’t know how she had tracked him down, but he supposed he should have expected it. It wasn’t as if he was hiding from her. They still communicated, after all, but he moved around and didn’t often tell her where he was or what he was doing.

He eyed her living room. It was unremarkable. Earth tones, shelves overstuffed with books on various subjects. Pictures on the wall of her family, the Order of the Phoenix, the Golden Trio. A few pictures of her with small children. The next generation of Potters and Weasleys. He ran his hand through his hair, which had grown longer, past his chin. His eyes travelled around the room and rested on the coffee table before him. In its center was a bar glass half full with a red, viscous liquid.

That must be it.

Her promise to help him.

“Tru Blood”* was the potion’s commercial name. She and Damocles Belby had been working on it for the past few years, but only a Weasley could have come up with a name so ridiculous. Hermione and Belby had done a few isolated experiments on some vampire volunteers to adjust strength and dosage. Their big success came when they were then asked to work with a group of teenage vampires with 1980’s style mullets in Santa Carla, California who had been harassing the local population.** After the wizard media had published the story, the Weasley twins began preparing to produce, market, and sell the formulation, and they were looking for potential buyers.

From what Draco understood, Hermione and Belby had figured out how to simulate the aging process so that younger vampires such as himself, could have as much control as vampires several hundred years old. At least, until the potion’s effects wore off. Hermione was already talking of drafting vampire integration legislation. She wanted to help vampires become productive and accepted members of the wizarding world. Slughorn promised to help; he had always had a soft spot for vampires for some odd reason.

Hermione was on a mission, and the more successful she was, the more momentum she gained, the more Draco felt the need to pull away and distance himself from her. She was creating space for him in her life, and in society. It was a singular act of love, but he didn’t deserve it. He couldn’t give her what she wanted, and none of this was fair to her. Ultimately, it didn’t matter whether or not vampires could integrate into society and hold jobs.

Hermione could have children. He couldn't.

He looked at the pictures of her holding a baby, playing with a toddler, and giving a piggyback ride to a small child while another reached upwards towards her. She could grow old and eventually die surrounded by those she had loved, with a family she had borne. He couldn’t do any of those things with her. And truth be told, even if he could have children and raise a family, he didn’t know if he _wanted_ to return to a human life.

He wasn’t human. He didn’t have human needs. He was a predator at heart now.

Would this potion alter his nature? Make him more human? Or would it only help him control himself for the times he chose to be with people?

He didn’t want Hermione to put her life on hold for him. He didn’t want to mislead her about what he was capable of. When she started on this quest to help vampires have more control over their instincts, she had thought his situation analogous to that of werewolves, but the past three years on his own had taught him differently. She had told him that Tru Blood was ready and that he should come back to try it, but he wasn’t sure how to respond. He didn’t want to give her false hope, and so he hadn’t responded. That had been several months ago. She must have gotten impatient with him.

Curious, Draco picked up the glass and held it to the light. It certainly _looked_ like blood, it had the same consistency. The glass was warm. She was thoughtful, casting a warming charm on it for him. He dipped his nose in the glass and sniffed. Definitely not blood, although there was a small bit of human blood in there.

_Hers._

He would be the first wizard vampire to test this Tru Blood concoction. Perhaps that was why she wasn’t here yet. He swirled the glass to mix whatever had settled at the bottom, sipped, and smacked his lips. It wasn’t _terrible_ , and yet, it wasn’t blood. He supposed she would want him to drink the whole thing, so he knocked it back and swallowed. The red liquid slid down his throat.

Draco didn’t feel any of the all-encompassing pleasure that came from drinking blood, but he had to admit, he wasn’t hungry anymore. The real test would be whether or not he could control the compulsion to feed around people. He set the glass down on the coffee table with a clink, stood up, and extended his arms to stretch his muscles, almost touching the ceiling. He wondered when she’d be back and walked naked around her flat.

He paused at the doorway to her bedroom and rested his forearm against the doorframe. Her smell was even stronger here. He inhaled it slowly, deeply, and shuddered. Her bed was made and on the dresser was a novel and a Hogwarts-style Slytherin tie. It must be the same tie from the night she’d been brought to him at the Manor. He felt a twinge of longing, and then guilt for intruding on her privacy. He returned to the living room.

She had left some clothing folded for him on an arm chair. He no longer felt the need to clothe himself, but it would make her feel more at ease. He decided to forego everything except trousers. He picked up the pair of black slacks, pushed his feet through the legs, one at a time, pulled them up, zipped and buttoned them around his waist. They sagged slightly on his hipbones without a belt, but they were comfortable.

He didn’t know when she would get back, and walked over to her bookshelf to pass the time, eyeing the titles with interest. There were quite a lot of texts devoted to vampires, all of which he had read and found mostly useless. Many more books were devoted to potions and blood magic. She had a few legal manuals on Wizengamot procedurals. On the bottom shelf were some titles he didn’t recognize. Perhaps Muggle.

A loud crack sounded, and Draco whirled around at the sudden intrusion, fangs bared.

Hermione drew her wand, and then, after seeing the empty glass on the coffee table, slowly sheathed it in her holster. “Sorry, I should have known Apparition would put you on edge.”

She wore a white lab coat over a dark shirt and trousers. Her hair was held back in a loose braid, and she set her bag and some papers down on the couch where he had woken up. It didn’t matter what she was wearing. He wanted to tear her clothes off right now and fuck her into the ground. It was a testament to how well the potion worked that he could even retract his fangs. He did so slowly.

She must have noticed the gleam in his eye because she took a step back cautiously and removed her lab coat, eyeing his bare chest, torso, and the V leading down below the waistband of the trousers.

He smirked at the expression on her face. “You kidnapped me.”

Her eyes snapped back up to his, and she flushed, having been caught ogling him. “I had to,” she said unapologetically. She was looking at him with such love and longing it hurt. “You didn’t come.”

She had devoted the past few years of her life to him, and he hadn’t even been with her. He couldn’t hold her back anymore, couldn’t allow her to shackle herself to him.

“Why didn’t you come, Draco?” she asked timidly, her deep hazel eyes searching his.

“I’ve been thinking about what your potion can do.” He took a few experimental steps toward her and breathed in the air around her. “And what it can’t do.”

Hermione nodded in understanding. “So have I.” She looked him up and down observing him critically. “I calculated your dosage according to BMI and vampire age. I didn’t know how to adjust for your magic and still haven’t heard of any wizard vampires besides you.” She peered into his eyes, as if looking for something. “Do you need more?”

He looked at her neck, her lips, and into her eyes, which studied him curiously. He listened to her heart beating and took another deep breath, inhaling her scent. He felt his desire for her, he felt his hunger for her, but it wasn’t overwhelming his ability to think and control himself.

“I don’t think so. You and Belby did a fantastic job.”

“Alright.” She gave him a once over and then slowly closed the distance between them, pressing her body against his and lacing her fingers in his hair. He sucked in a breath.

“Still okay?” she whispered.

He felt his erection forming below. He wanted to drink her blood, but it wasn’t the singular focus to the exclusion of all else that he usually felt when he hunted and fed. “Yes.”

“I missed you,” she said as she pulled his head down for a kiss. His fangs extended.

“I could cut you,” he warned with a grunt.

“I don’t care,” she said, exhaling onto his mouth. Her lips pressed against his, her tongue gently sliding against his lips, trying to gain entrance. He held back, not quite trusting himself, and let her take the lead so she could explore and test the limits of her invention. The kiss was soft and tentative and delicate. Cautious. Slowly, she pulled away.

“So far, so good?” she asked.

“So very good.” Draco’s fingers flexed against her upper arms, and he slid his hands around to her back, holding her close. “It almost feels like being human. How long does your potion work for?”

She gave him a saucy smile. “Long enough to have plenty of fun.” He swallowed, and she pressed her hand into his chest, pushing him backwards towards the couch. The back of his legs hit the cushions, and he fell to a sitting position as she climbed on top of him.

“Hermione,” he said, his skin tingling while her hands slid over his bare chest. He wrapped his fingers around her wrists, stilling her movement. “I’ve learned more about being a vampire.”

Undeterred, she kissed his cheekbones, the scruff of his jaw, and down the tendons of his throat. “So have I.”

He couldn’t think with her kissing him like this, didn’t know how to explain himself. “I travelled and lived with them. I found some things out about myself aaaahhhhh…” His hips bucked as his ear lobe entered her warm, wet mouth.

“Yes,” she said with a smile after releasing his ear. “You had mentioned that in your letters, but didn’t provide much detail.”

Gently, he cupped her face and held her still. He couldn’t form two sentences with her lips on him. “I tried to find vampires living with humans. Hermione…” She looked at him. “There aren’t any.” She didn’t look disturbed by this news and leaned down to kiss him again, but he held her still. “The closest I could find was some tosser in Los Angeles who runs a detective agency because his human girlfriend dumped him.”***

“Why did she dump him?” she asked, latching onto his throat. He moaned as she sucked his skin into her mouth and then, not without considerable difficulty, pushed her away again. He had to make her understand. They would never work. He wasn’t right for her.

“Probably because all he does is mope about her and some delusional redemption path he thinks he’s on. I could barely last the evening.”

Her cheeks were deliciously flushed. “Some vampires really are a mopey bunch aren’t they?”

“ _He_ was. I found someone far more interesting in the area though. Some punk British vampire, with hair more blonde than mine, if you can believe it. He was alright, talked about a Muggle Quidditch team called Manchester United a bit much but was hands-down the best drinking buddy I’ve ever had.”****

“ _Drinking_ buddy?” Hermione’s eyebrows furrowed disapprovingly at his description as she ran her hands up his chest and over his shoulders.

“Drinking buddy,” Draco repeated with a smirk, reaching up to still her hands. “It was fun hanging out with him for a while, until his girlfriend***** came back into town. She was batshit crazy.” He shuddered at the memory.

“Human?” Hermione asked, leaning in to kiss him again.

“Vampire,” he answered, shaking his head. “She reminded me of Aunt Bella.” Hermione backed away with a look of pure horror on her face.

“That’s terrifying.” He watched Hermione’s eyes glaze over. They both had terrible memories of his Aunt.

“She called me Ickle Draco and had the same cackle. She gave me nightmares, I had to leave.”

Hermione shook her head, clearing herself of whatever she was reliving from the war. “Where else did you go? I heard there was a group in the Pacific Northwest that was trying to live among humans.”******

He rolled his eyes. “No, they’re not vampires. Just some cult painting themselves with glitter so they can sparkle in the sun—” Her laughter cut him off. 

“You’re kidding me!” she gasped for air and leaned on his chest, shoulders shuddering. “Oh my god, that’s the funniest thing I’ve ever heard!”

He grinned as her laughter died down. “Believe me, that’s far from the stupidest thing I’ve seen.”

“What do you mean?” she asked with a smile, struggling not to laugh.

He placed his hands on her waist, now that she had stopped trying to snog him. “There’s this pervasive idea that vampires and werewolves are mortal enemies and always at war with each other.”*******

She furrowed her brow. “At _war_? Over _what_?” Hermione asked, genuinely interested. “The two groups don’t even have any competing interests.”

“Fuck if I know,” he replied and sat in thought. “As if it were any contest,” he continued. Hermione eyed him sharply. “I mean, werewolves are only _slightly_ stronger and faster than humans and do what? Turn into glorified guard dogs once a month. Vampires are faster and stronger _all the time_. I’d argue we’re more intelligent as well, on average.”

Hermione stared at him curiously and her lips quirked upwards. “You seem… Bothered.”

Draco scoffed. “Not bothered at all. I could take out twenty of them with one hand tied behind my back. Without any magic. Who cares about werewolves? I certainly don’t.”

“Draco, you’re hurting me.”

He looked down and saw his fingers clenched, knuckles white, and digging into her sides. He sheepishly relaxed his hands. “Sorry.”

She looked like she was going to laugh and then asked, “Were there any vampires left in Romania?”********

He shook his head. “Van Helsing and his followers did a number on that community. Most left Europe for the United States, especially during World War I. If there were any vampires in Romania, they were extremely well hidden. I couldn’t find any.”

“Where else did you go?” she asked.

“Louisiana.” He saw a flare of recognition in her eyes. “You were also there?”

“Yes, with the twins. There were quite a few vampires in that community interested in Tru Blood,” she explained. “They were so old they didn’t need it themselves, but thought it would be an opportunity to integrate into Muggle society and live more securely. One of them thought he could open a vampire bar.”*

“A… Vampire bar.” Draco gave her a mortified look. He imagined a rave with loud music, a bunch of jumping vampires, and blood streaming from water sprinklers in the ceiling.*********

“Yeah,” she smiled. “Fred and George said he should call it Fangtasia.”*

Draco snorted. The Weasley twins were the absolute worst with product names. “That’s almost as stupid as starting a vampire rock band.********** Who’s bright idea was this?”

Hermione chuckled. “I don’t remember his name. He was blond, like you, but taller, broader, and had blue eyes. Very old.”

At her description, Draco blanched. “Eric*?”

Hermione’s eyebrows rose. “You know him?” She must have seen something change in his face because she added with a lowered voice, “You _know_ him.”

“Yeah,” Draco searched her eyes for judgement but only saw a mixture of curiosity and lust. She had been working with vampires the past few years. She must have known that he wouldn’t be able to abstain from sex with women or men, no matter how much he loved her. “I spent a few months with him. He was… Helpful.”

Her eyes became hooded, and her lips spread in a slow smile. “I do remember him being very attractive.”

“He taught me a few things,” he added. Hermione smiled even wider, but his sadness returned. He needed to explain things to her. The sooner he did, the sooner she could move on with her life and find someone who deserved her love and devotion.

“Like what?” She rocked her pelvis against him sensually, and he growled as he felt himself harden.

“Hermione...” He pushed her back slightly so she wouldn’t be directly on top of his cock. “Even with Tru Blood, even if we were together, I can’t give you children.”

She tilted her head to the side. “Who says I want children? I enjoy being a godmother. Harry and Cho are about to pop out baby number two, and then she’ll go back to playing with the Holyhead Harpies. I made Teddy a kid-appropriate potion set. Ron and Lavender are also expecting. I don’t want my own children. I want you.”

He looked up at her, worried. She wanted to give up a family and children for him? And for what? This wasn’t right at all. He couldn’t be a proper partner. A proper husband.

“But I can’t be… Human,” he explained. “Vampires hunt. And they have sex. Lots of it. With multiple partners. I can’t be faithful.”

“I know.” She didn’t seem bothered.

He couldn’t understand why. Maybe her potion _could_ change his nature? That’s not how he understood its function.

“Does your potion… Temper that desire?”

She shook her head. “Just for the few hours you take it. It doesn’t change your nature. You’ll be able to feed from humans without hurting them, though, just like the older vampires do. You don’t actually need that much human blood to live. You won’t have to kill anyone anymore.”

And suddenly all he could hear was her blood pumping in his ears.

She gave him a sultry smile. “Do you want to bite me now?”

 _Yes_.

He stared, entranced, at her neck. Her flesh was so inviting.

“Hermione.” Draco heard himself speaking but forgot what he wanted to say.

She cupped face and tilted his head up to look at her. “You okay?” she asked with a smirk. He had to tell her. He had to end this now.

“It’s not fair to you,” he whispered.

“What’s not fair, Draco?”

“You’ll grow old and die. I’ll stay in my twenties forever. Even if I don’t kill you, I wouldn’t be like a human. I would still be driven to hunt. I would still have sex with others while feeding from them.” She blinked and listened to him patiently. He took a deep breath and continued. “It’s not a relationship that you deserve. I’ve looked everywhere. I knew what you were doing for me and I tried to figure out how we would work together. I lived by myself and I lived with other vampires. A vampire-human relationship simply isn't possible.” He closed his eyes and pushed her gently away from him, off of his lap. “That’s why I hesitated to come back. I was trying to figure out how to tell you.”

She stood in front of him. None of his confession seemed to faze her at all.

“Do you still want to be with me?”

He swallowed. “More than anything,” he breathed.

“Then I don’t see the problem,” she insisted.

“I’d be having sex with other people.”

“I know.”

He flinched. “That doesn’t bother you?”

“I’d probably be watching, or joining, whichever. All this research into tempering vampire desires has been very,” she gave him a small sultry smile again. “enlightening.”

“But…”

“This is the last time you’ll be having sex with me as a human, Draco.” She unzipped her trousers and shimmied so they would fall to the floor.

He felt his fangs extend immediately. She wanted… She wanted _that_.

“You won’t miss the daylight?” he asked, disbelieving, as she crawled back on top of him and pulled her shirt up and over her head.

She looked into his eyes. “I’d give up the sun for you.”

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

They were in a nameless field, looking up at the moon and the stars. Draco had Apparated them out of Hermione’s apartment, knowing that they would likely destroy it after he turned her. Vampire sex could be extremely violent.

Hermione lay on top of him with a contented smile, and he tightened his arms around her. His whole body was thrumming in post-orgasmic bliss. It hadn’t felt like this since she had been brought to him at the Manor three years ago.

“What do you want to do now?” he asked, cupping the back of her head tenderly. “There’s no war, and we can take your potion if we want to be around humans. We have all the time in the world now.”

She turned to him, resting her chin on his chest, and smiled. “Yes. We do.”

“I could take you to the moon.”

Her eyebrows rose slowly in disbelief. “You can Apparate _to the moon_?”

He grinned. He had spent the past three years trying to understand what it meant to be a vampire. Together, they could try and understand what it meant to be _wizard_ vampires.

“I’d like to find others like us,” Hermione said, voicing his thoughts. “You can’t be the first.”

“I agree. They’re in hiding. I don’t think we’ll find them unless they want to be found.”

She ran her fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp. He let his eyes flutter closed and moaned softly. He opened his eyes to see her grinning mischievously down at him. “Let’s go back to Louisiana.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Oh? You want to help the Weasley twins corner the market in the States?”

“No,” she said, her hazel eyes glittering in the starlight. “I want to try an Eric/Draco sandwich.”

His fangs extended at the thought, and he let out a groan while sliding his hands down her naked back, digging his fingers into her rear.

“Or, we could see if that batshit crazy girlfriend—”

“No!” he cut her off forcefully. “No. No. No. Absolutely not.” She laughed at him and he glared at her. “Way to kill the mood, Granger.”

\---------------------------------------Fin---------------------------------------------------

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter End Notes
> 
> *True Blood (of course)  
> **The Lost Boys  
> ***Angel/Buffy the Vampire Slayer  
> ****Spike/Buffy the Vampire Slayer  
> *****Drusilla/Buffy the Vampire Slayer  
> ******Twilight  
> *******Underworld  
> ********Dracula  
> *********Blade  
> **********Lestadt/The Vampire Chronicles
> 
> Thank you for reading everyone! I hope you enjoyed it. If you like my writing, try my fluffy, smutty, whodunit called A Dish Best Served Cold.


	20. Preview - Blackmailed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a preview for my next story, Blackmailed. If you want the (what I hope will be) weekly updates, follow the story in the link provided at the end.

Hermione had been glaring down at her lap for the past hour. She couldn’t look up; if she did, she’d start screaming. She hadn’t managed much more than one word replies the entire morning, and her hands were currently balled into fists from the tension of keeping silent.

“Regardless, due to reduced attendance this year,” Snape continued in his bored, superior tone. “We don’t expect the Head duties to be especially overwhelming.” He shuffled some parchments on his desk. No. On _Dumbledore’s_ desk. “Any questions?”

She had lots of questions. None that could be asked or that would be answered truthfully in the present company.

Sitting next to her, Malfoy was silent and sullen. From the corner of her eye, she could see him staring absently in the general direction of the co-Headmasters, who occupied their separate desks. It was surreal: she felt like she was in a movie or some horrible alternate reality.

Snape and Malfoy.

 _Here_.

In the office of the man they had conspired to kill.

Not only were they not paying for their crimes, they’d actually been _lauded_ by the newly fallen Ministry for preventing Dumbledore from succeeding in an insurrection to overthrow the Minister of Magic. For the last six years, she had believed in Dumbledore’s trust in Snape and had thought that Harry was wrong about their professor. In the end, it was _she_ who had been wrong. Malfoy may have orchestrated the events of the Astronomy Tower under duress, but Snape had shown his true colours, and she hated him now. He was just as evil as the other Death Eaters.

Malfoy. He had almost killed Katie Bell and had poisoned Ron. And the consequences of his actions? Being named Head Boy. She was _furious_.

“Well then.” McGonagall stood up. Hermione saw her eye twitch, the only crack in her professor’s cold exterior. Clearly, she was not pleased with the arrangement either, but what choice did she have? “If there is nothing else to discuss, I will accompany you both to your quarters.”

The walk to the shared Head Boy and Head Girl dorm was tense and silent. McGonagall’s sharp heels clicked on the floor and echoed down the corridor. Hermione dug her fingers into her palms. For what felt like the hundredth time, she hoped that returning to Hogwarts had been the right decision. She had hated the idea of splitting off from Harry and Ron, but there was a warrant out for Undesirable Number One’s arrest. And since Harry was on the run, the trio deemed it best that Ron stay with him instead of returning to Hogwarts with Hermione. He wouldn’t be much help here anyway with what she had to do.

As they approached the shared living space, she felt stirrings of both disgust and fear at having to live with Malfoy. Logically, she knew that she had no right to complain. When she considered the situation that her former Head of House was in with Snape, she realized that things could have been _much_ worse.

“Pax,” Hermione muttered.

The door opened, and Malfoy followed her in. To her surprise, McGonagall came in as well and shut the door behind her. Hermione turned to face her, unsure as to why she had followed them in.

“Mister Malfoy,” McGonagall commanded him crisply. Malfoy didn’t answer, but kept a bored expression on his face. “If you harm one hair on Miss Granger’s head, I’ll make you wish you were still being _Crucio’d_ by your Aunt.”

Hermione’s jaw dropped. Malfoy blanched. Her teacher had just _threatened to torture him_.

Had that really happened to Malfoy? Bellatrix had tortured him? And how had McGonagall known?

The professor continued. “I will know if she’s been _Obliviated_. I will know if she has been _Imperiused_. You’re not as clever as you think you are.” Hermione watched the interaction, gobsmacked. McGonagall was using the familiar tone that she usually reserved for wayward students to threaten him. Somehow, she was more terrifying this way. “Threats are useless; I don’t care one fig what they do to me so long Miss Granger is not hurt in any way. _Do I make myself clear_?”

Hermione felt a surge of affection for her teacher and relief at her words. McGonagall had just ensured that she would be safe at Hogwarts. At least, until the Ministry took over, which would happen any day now. At that thought, Hermione clutched the beaded bag that never left her side, comforting herself with the assurance that she could be off grounds and in the Forest of Dean with everything she needed this very minute if she wanted.

Malfoy’s throat constricted as he struggled to form a reply. “Crystal.”

“Good.” McGonagall shifted to an obviously false cordial tone. “Now why don’t you get your things unpacked and settled in your room?”

He was being dismissed. McGonagall wanted to speak with her alone. Malfoy shifted his gaze between the two of them, shoved his hands in his trouser pockets, and belligerently sat down on the sofa.

Her professor stared down at him, visibly annoyed. By directly defying her, he was demonstrating that McGonagall didn’t have complete authority over him. And perhaps she didn’t; it was a fragile situation. They all knew her tenure as co-Headmistress was limited. The new teachers would be arriving soon, as would the implementation of the new curriculum. Snape would be the one in charge of rolling out educational reforms based on blood politics.

McGonagall sighed.

“Miss Granger,” she held out her hand to Hermione’s door. “Surely _you_ would like to unpack?”

With a sideways glance at Malfoy, who was still glaring defiantly at McGonagall, Hermione went into her room. Her professor stepped through behind her, and her heart raced as the door shut. She opened her mouth to speak, but immediately closed it when McGonagall silently shushed her with a finger to her lips.

“Just so you know, I will still be functioning as Head of House for Gryffindor…” McGonagall began to ramble about a few things which had not been mentioned in the meeting with Snape but were fairly inconsequential. As she continued to speak, she cast a nonverbal silencing spell at Hermione’s door and waved her wand around the room in a series of motions before looking pointedly at an orange glow that had revealed itself in the corner by the dresser.

Hermione’s eyes widened. What was that?

As if in answer, her teacher cast another nonverbal spell at the orange glow and rounded on her immediately.

“Now you can tell me what you need.”

Her heart rate sped up.

“Books. And not just from here. Possibly banned books.”

“Madam Pince is aware. You can trust her. What else?”

“One hour alone in Dumbledore’s office.”

She watched her professor think, tapping her index finger to her chin. “That can be arranged.” McGonagall motioned to the orange glow. “As you may have guessed, we are both being monitored. I checked earlier. Your common area is clear of eavesdropping charms – most likely because Mister Malfoy will be there. Start unpacking. Tell me about the wedding. _Finite Incantatum_.”

Hermione stuttered at first, digesting the information, but soon began to prattle on about Bill and Fleur’s wedding while she unpacked her clothing. The topic reached its end, and McGonagall performed the same nonverbal spell as before.

“What else? The castle is at your disposal.”

Hermione thought about things she would like but hadn’t been able to acquire. “Essence of Dittany, blood replenishing potions, Skele-grow, other Healing supplies for…” For what? What is it they’d be doing? “Camping. Polyjuice, or the ingredients necessary for it. Perhaps both. Veritaserum if you have it. All in unbreakable glass vials. Whatever you can spare. More Portkeys too, if you have them.” She had no idea where she, Harry, and Ron would be going, or what the boys would be doing when she joined them.

McGonagall nodded, her eyes sad. “I’ll have Poppy prepare something for you. You should be trained by her in rudimentary Healing. Filius can teach you shielding and warding spells as well while you’re here. I’ll see about the potions and some other things you may need. _Finite Incantatum_.”

McGonagall resumed talking about the new first years and reduced class sizes, transitioning to the state of O.W.L and N.E.W.T examinations before targeting the orange glow again.

“This will be the last time for now, Miss Granger. If Mister Malfoy is spying on you, he will no doubt be reporting that we conversed for this long. It will be quite difficult to arrange another private meeting between the two of us.”

Glad that she’d had the foresight to make a few more, Hermione extracted a D.A. Galleon from her bag and placed one in her professor’s hand. McGonagall looked down with a small smile, recognizing what she had been given. She curled her fingers over the Galleon and pocketed it. Glancing up to meet Hermione’s eyes, the two shared a moment to appreciate their clever defiance.

“When are they coming?” Hermione had a lot of other questions, but this was the most important one.

“Our intelligence tells us it will be within a month, but we don’t have the exact date yet. The other professors and I have prepared an evacuation plan for the few Muggle-born students that are here and the safe-houses are nearly ready. _You_ need to be prepared to leave at any time. I don’t know how much warning we will have.”

She was prepared. Hermione clutched her beaded bag again. It was becoming a security blanket of sorts.

McGonagall must have noticed how protective she was over the bag. “ _Glamour_ that. I don’t need to tell you to be discreet but, Miss Granger?”

“Yes, Headmistress?”

Her old, bony hand reached out to Hermione’s. The fingers were frail, but her grip was strong. “Do be careful.”

Hermione warmed at her teacher’s concern. “You too, and thank you for...” She motioned her head in the direction of the common area, where they had left Malfoy.

McGonagall narrowed her eyes. “One. Hair.”

Hermione laughed despite herself, and her teacher pressed her hand warmly before dispelling the charm and leaving.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

It had been a tense first week of school, to say the least, but it had been the right decision to come back. After her conversations over the summer with Harry and Ron regarding Dumbledore’s memories and theories, Hermione had known precisely where to start her research when she’d arrived at the castle. Over the last few days, she had already figured out how to destroy the Horcruxes and where to retrieve the means to do so. She now had a collection of several basilisk fangs – summoned from the Chamber of Secrets with Moaning Myrtle’s help – all sitting in a pouch in her beaded bag, ready for use.

The door to the Heads’ common area slammed shut. Hermione forced herself not to jump or look up as Malfoy stalked across to the armchair from which he usually worked. Just like the couch she had been working from every day had become ‘her’ couch via an unspoken agreement, the armchair he had commandeered for his own work had become ‘his’. She peeked surreptitiously at him as he threw himself into the aforementioned armchair and dropped his satchel to the side. He looked agitated as he bent to pull out his books and parchment, setting them on the side table, but that wasn't unusual. He was _always_ agitated.

Malfoy extended his long legs out, resting them on ‘his’ footstool and opened a Potions textbook, jaw clenching and unclenching in irritation. His eyes flicked up to hers. She looked down immediately, hoping he hadn’t noticed her studying him.

She had been agitated as well. Anyone would be, had they been forced to reside in the same living quarters with this sorry excuse for a human being. In the first few days, every time she saw him, Hermione’s fingers just itched to grab her wand and hex him, consequences be damned. How she would love to hit him with an _Oppungo_. She chuckled to herself as she pictured him swatting birds away from his face. Or maybe she could make his footstool randomly explode one day. Or curse his armchair to attack him.

But no. Satisfying as hexing him would be, it would unfortunately break the tense, silent truce they seemed to have settled into as the days passed uneventfully.

He didn’t mess with her, she didn’t mess with him.

She continued to survey him, and noted once again how he'd changed over the summer: he'd gotten taller – much taller than she was – and he'd filled out somewhat, as Quidditch players often did. She had never noticed much about Malfoy before, but now that she saw him all the time in their quarters, absent of Crabbe, Goyle, or any of his other Slytherin cronies, she found herself... Noticing.

Giving herself a mental shake, Hermione returned her focus to her work. She had started a notebook where she’d listed notes from Dumbledore’s theories about Voldemort: his motivations, his psychology, and his Horcruxes. It also contained ideas that she had, flashes of inspiration, and scattered notes from the books she’d pulled from the library. She had even drawn a crude sketch of the locket that Harry and Dumbledore had found in the cave, and she’d copied the note that R.A.B. had left word for word. She didn’t _need_ the notebook to remember these things, but it helped her to brainstorm in the absence of Harry and Ron to bounce ideas off of.

She saw Malfoy stretch his long limbs in her peripheral vision, groaning as he did so and interrupting her thoughts. The stretching and contracting of his limbs showed off the contours and muscular shape of his body. She glanced over at him suspiciously, and then looked down before he noticed that she was watching him stretch. Why was he even here in the common room, anyway? Why not go off with his Slytherin friends in the library?

Was it possible that he was spying on her, like McGonagall had intimated? And if so, to what end? He hadn’t done anything to her yet. If he did bear her ill will, it appeared that McGonagall’s threat had worked.

For now.

Malfoy was a Death Eater. He might not be a killer, but he was still dangerous and unpredictable. He had let Death Eaters into Hogwarts and had done it _right under Dumbledore’s nose_. She’d have to stay vigilant in his presence.

If he was under orders like last year, how far would he go to follow them?

She didn’t know. She didn’t want to find out.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Days passed under the stifling blanket of the dormitory’s quiet tension. Malfoy hadn’t spoken to her at all since McGonagall had threatened him that first day, and their common area was always strained and silent. Hermione supposed she should be thankful for that. She hadn’t known what to expect, but this was infinitely better than the worst of what she had imagined.

But it surprised her. Where was the Draco Malfoy who hadn't hesitated when insulting her looks, friends, or blood status in years past? The spoiled, childish git who'd threatened and bragged in equal measure about his father and family name? Though she remained angry with him – furious, even – the rage she had felt that first day in the Headmaster’s office had lessened in the face of his reserve, abating to a distant thrum edged with confusion and suspicion.

Across the common area from one another, they worked in silence, the only sounds being the occasional flip of a page or scratching of quill across parchment. She heard an impatient exhale of breath and glanced up from her work to see Malfoy’s eyes flick back down to his coursework. She could have sworn that he had been staring at her. And not for the first time.

She wondered what he thought of their Head Boy/Head Girl arrangement. In order to concentrate on Horcrux research and her Healing and Warding training, Hermione hadn’t gone to any classes or engaged in any Head duties. She couldn’t rightly say what the Head duties even _were_. It was uncharacteristic behavior from her and, therefore, extremely suspicious. Her cover story was that she was working on independent studies this year, but she didn’t think that anyone bought it. So far, Malfoy didn’t seem to be bothered by her lack of participation in Head Duties, and if he’d noticed that she wasn’t attending class, he didn’t mention it. She assumed that if he really needed her for administrative business, he’d tell her. But he hadn’t, and she certainly wasn’t going to ask.

As she looked at him, Hermione noticed that his lips had pursed when he’d paused his writing, looking back between his textbook and the parchment, perhaps thinking about how best to phrase his thoughts. She watched as he brought his thumb up to his mouth and licked it with his pink tongue before reaching to another textbook and flipping the page.

She pondered what she really knew about him and what these few weeks with him meant, if anything. She still didn’t know what his intentions towards her were. Was he spying, or was he simply back for an irregular seventh year?

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

A few days later, Hermione stood in the small dorm kitchen, waiting for the kettle to boil. She mentally reviewed Madam Pomfrey's latest lesson, a suturing incantation for shallow wounds. As her fingers mimicked the proper wand movement, her eyes slid across the common area, pausing on where Malfoy sat, parchment in front of him. He paused in his writing, dipping his quill in his inkwell and tapping the excess off. His hair fell loosely in front of his eyes, and she followed the lines of his jaw to his cheekbones. He had rolled his sleeves up, and she watched the muscles of his forearms flex as he committed thought to parchment.

As her gaze fell to his hands, she shook herself and resumed practicing the suturing charm. As she mumbled the incantation, Malfoy stretched his limbs. Her eyes were once again drawn to the movement.

And there it was: the Dark Mark.

She had known that he had one, but knowing in abstract and seeing in reality were two very different things. Hermione felt a wave of visceral disgust: her limbs felt chilled, and the taste of bile was strong on her tongue.

She had never seen the Mark before, let alone _his,_ and she stared at the inside of his forearm with morbid curiosity. It rippled with the movements of Malfoy’s muscles as he stretched. In a detached way, she was fascinated at the stark contrast of the brand against the paleness of his skin.

The snake coming out of the skull was almost… Phallic.

At that thought, she registered that Malfoy’s arm was no longer moving. She belatedly realized that she had been staring for quite a long time, quietly ensconced in her thoughts, and quickly looked up. Malfoy had noticed her gaze and was staring right back at her with piercing grey eyes.

A jolt of fear ran down her spine. She’d never looked at him directly in the eyes like that. Not recently, anyway. He continued to stare at her. Something seemed to surface in his eyes – perhaps defiance – before they hardened. He drew his brows together slowly.

Blushing, she glanced down and busied herself with making her tea. Hermione chastised herself for feeling embarrassed; why should she be the one who felt skittish and awkward about noticing his Mark? And anyways, it wasn’t like it was the first time he had caught her staring. He knew she had been. There was nothing _else_ to bloody look at in their common room. She had stared at his shoulders beneath his school uniform. At his long, muscular legs when he stretched. At his face. At his tongue. And now, at his Dark Mark.

She supposed it was a mixture of curiosity and the fact that there wasn’t much else to do here. They were still existing in stilted silence, but had nonetheless fallen into a routine that allowed each the maximum amount of space with the minimum amount of contact with one another. As the days passed, her angry confusion had turned to outright curiosity: aside from the never ending silence, Malfoy had treated her almost politely from the first. Puzzled, she found herself glancing his way more often. That and, well… A small part of her supposed that he _was_ rather good looking. Much as she was loath to admit.

She took comfort in the thought that she had caught him staring at her as well. Multiple times. Especially any time she bent over or stretched to reach something in the kitchenette. Like her, he had tried to hide his gaze.

But this was different. It was the first time that there was _mutual acknowledgment,_ albeit unspoken, of the fact that she had been staring at him.

Feeling heavily disconcerted, she retreated to her couch with her tea. She set it down on the coffee table, opened her book, and stared at the page. She could still taste the acidic remains of her disgust, but it was tempered by a strong swell of frustrated interest. He hadn’t done anything, hadn’t even sneered at her or called her a Mudblood. Was he biding his time, or was he harmless?

Like a moth drawn to a flame, she flicked her eyes back to Malfoy. He had rolled down his sleeves. Perhaps he was embarrassed that she had seen his Dark Mark.

He must have sensed her eyes on him again, but she managed to lower hers just in time. Hermione thought she saw him smirk, but she _certainly_ wasn’t going to check.

McGonagall had told her that if she felt threatened by him in any way, she could move to Gryffindor Tower. But so far, nothing had happened. Malfoy left her alone, didn’t talk to her, and had the decency to hide the fact that he stared at her every so often.

She did exactly the same.

The silence, while grating, was preferable to other scenarios she had envisioned.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

The silence between them didn’t last much longer.

She was poring over a book of known and rumored historical artifacts of the Four Founders when Malfoy emerged from his room, sweaty from flying, in just a towel wrapped around his hips. Her eyes widened as his naked chest and torso came into her line of sight. He padded across the common area to their shared bathroom as if nothing was amiss.

Feeling flustered she burst out, “You can’t just walk around half-naked in our common area!”

Malfoy’s hand paused on the bathroom doorknob, and he turned to face her, his grey eyes focused on her hazel ones. She felt a thrill pass through her as they made direct eye contact for the second time in as many days. The prat really did have beautiful eyes. She couldn’t deny it, though she wanted to.

Death Eater. Prat. It didn’t matter what the hell his eyes looked like. Hermione instantly regretted saying anything. It was clear that he had done this on purpose to get a reaction. Without thinking, she had given him one.

Slowly, his body turned toward her and he walked closer, clad only in his towel. She felt _extremely_ uncomfortable as he neared, taking up more of her vision, crowding her personal space. There was no safe place to look, but she couldn’t look away; that would be cowardly, and he would win whatever game he was playing. And she couldn’t look down because then she’d be ogling his body and, again, he would win. All she could do was look into those intense grey eyes of his. Somehow, it _still_ felt like he was winning.

She was sitting, he was standing, and her face was at the level of his… Well. Hermione didn’t like their positions, but if she stood up she’d be even closer to him and his naked chest. She could already smell him in all his sweaty, masculine glory, and the scent was causing her stomach to perform unwanted little flips. Her heart was thudding in her chest from his proximity.

What the _hell_ was he doing?

She swallowed the lump in her throat as he towered over her: pale, sweaty, half-naked, and completely at ease with the display of his lean, muscled body to her. Malfoy was fit, and he knew it. Even in her peripheral vision, she could see the V of his abdomen half hidden by the towel. _Merlin_. There was an angry red scar across his chest – probably from when Harry had cursed him last year.

His eyebrows raised in mock query. “Why not?”

She struggled not to let her eyes flick to his Dark Mark, a reminder that even if he’d refused to kill, he was still dangerous. He tilted his forearm, as if daring her to look at it. Daring her to say something.

Was he _threatening_ her? She narrowed her eyes at him.

“Because this is a working area and it requires a certain level of professionalism,” she answered, proud that she kept her voice steady. That her eyes hadn’t drifted elsewhere. “You have your room and the loo to use as your own personal nudist colony.”

“Mmmm,” was his non-committal reply.

He looked down into her eyes for a few seconds, clearly amused, and shifted his gaze to her books and what she had been writing in her notebook. Her chest tightened with a rush of terror.

_Bollocks!_

She had several books on the Founding Four open on the table and had been writing in her notebook about potential artifacts that Voldemort could have made into Horcruxes. Winning whatever _game_ Malfoy was playing was far less important than concealing her mission with Ron and Harry. She allowed herself to show how uncomfortable his presence made her – it was a good excuse to get herself and her research the hell out of his line of sight – and gathered up her materials.

“Professionalism, Malfoy,” she repeated, cradling her books in her arms.

There, her voice sounded stern that time. Even disdainful. She stood up to go back to her bedroom, far closer to his half-naked body than she wanted to be. He raised an eyebrow at her and didn’t move out of her way, forcing her to brush against his chest as she walked past him. She could feel him watching her backside as she closed her bedroom door.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Hermione didn’t want to admit it, but she had to consider that Malfoy had approached her on purpose yesterday. Not just to make her uncomfortable, but also to see what she’d been researching. She hadn’t been doing any research in the library because she’d be too exposed there, and Malfoy had always left her alone in the common room, not seeming to care what she was reading or working on. However, things had changed since he had quite possibly seen what she had been writing. Even though he couldn’t possibly understand why her work was so important, if he was reporting on her activities, Voldemort would understand what she was after. Malfoy knowing about her research into the Founders’ artifacts was a disaster to the future of the war.

She considered _Obliviating_ him but didn’t know if he had actually seen anything. And maybe he _had_ only wanted to make her uncomfortable, with no ulterior motive. Aside from that, she’d have to figure out how to catch him unawares long enough to not botch the spell. If she failed, she didn’t know how he would react, but he would certainly be angry. Maybe even angry enough to attack her. She needed time to remove his memory properly.

In the meantime, Hermione needed a solution that would allow her to keep working. She couldn’t adequately do research in her bedroom, so instead she _Glamoured_ the books she had taken out of the library and, of course, her notebook. Despite her added precautions, Malfoy hadn’t approached her again. But she knew she couldn’t become complacent. She didn’t know what his role was in this war, or what he was capable of. She had no idea what was going on in his head or what he was thinking.

One thing that _was_ obvious, regardless of his motivation, was that he was messing with her. Instead of changing in his room or their shared bathroom like a normal, _decent_ human being, he had taken to walking back and forth in his towel every time he had to shower. She didn’t know what she hated more: Malfoy, all masculine and sweaty from Quidditch, or Malfoy, fresh and clean from the shower, dripping water and smelling pleasantly of pine.

At first, she had closed her eyes when he emerged from his room, nude but for the scrap of cloth that was much too small for her comfort. Quickly, she realized that this was irresponsible; he could easily summon her work or steal something if she wasn’t paying attention to what he was doing. She resigned herself to having to endure his blatant attempts to goad her, regardless of how flustered and embarrassed they made her feel. So long as he stayed away from her Horcrux research, she didn’t say anything and hoped the situation wouldn’t escalate further.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

The situation did escalate.

Malfoy exited the loo for the umpteenth time, towel wrapped around his torso and smelling like whatever hormone producing concoction he showered with. Hermione fought the blush stealing across her cheeks. Why did she have this same reaction every single time? How had she not become used to him yet? Despite her efforts at nonchalance, she was sure that he knew that she struggled not to look at him. This time, instead of continuing on to his bedroom, he stopped in their kitchenette. She abandoned her attempts at stealth and watched him fill a glass of water.

“Thirsty?” he asked in a low voice.

He leaned against the counter, supporting himself with his forearm. He locked eyes with her and sipped from his glass. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, and he placed the cup down on the counter with a clink. She watched his mouth as his tongue flicked across his lower lip, catching an errant droplet of water.

Why, oh why, was he so damned good looking?

Hermione put her quill down. She’d had enough of his games. It was time for some Gryffindor directness to put an end to all this.

“Thirsty for what?” she countered. “Water? Or you?”

He raised his eyebrows, likely in surprise that she’d dare call him out like that. “Would you prefer something… Harder?”

She huffed. “No, thanks, I’m not interested in hard things. Drinks or otherwise.” That earned her a soft laugh. “Just my evening tea.”

“You’re funny, Granger.”

He sounded surprised, like he was re-evaluating her. As if he would know a sense of humor if it tap danced in front of him. Well, maybe he’d notice if it were tap dancing half-naked, wrapped in a towel in front of him.

“Mmmm,” she replied, hoping he would get the hint that she had no interest in talking to him.

She turned back to her notebook. She could see from the corner of her eye that he was still fiddling about in the kitchen with that horrible towel looking like it was ready to fall off at any moment. She was almost tempted to perform a nonverbal spell and make it fall; that would teach him to prance around half-naked. But then, he’d be _fully_ naked. He probably wouldn’t be embarrassed by that in the least. He’d just walk around her with his… _Thing_ on display. Hermione rubbed her cheek in frustration and flipped the page of one of her books.

After a few moments, Malfoy started walking over in her direction. She made sure the glamours on her research were in place before he reached her. To her surprise, he sat down beside her on the couch and placed two cups of tea on the coffee table before them. As he summoned spoons and napkins, she stared in disbelief. Hermione didn’t know what horrified her more: the fact that Draco Malfoy, of all people, had made her tea, or that he now sat sprawled on the couch next to her, legs spread and the towel partially open.

She chanced a glance down and caught a glimpse of a muscled thigh through the V of the opening in the towel. If she changed her vantage point, she’d be able to look straight up and see his _bits_ _!_ His behavior was so irritatingly perverse, and she knew that he was doing it on purpose. Hopefully he thought that she was staring at the teacups instead of at his muscular legs, imagining what she couldn’t see.

“You made me tea.”

It wasn’t a question, but a fact stated in disbelief. She couldn’t understand why he would do such a thing.

“Sugar? Milk?” Conjuring both, he ignored her incredulity as she turned to look up at him. He had an amused smirk on his lips.

She wasn’t going to avoid how odd this all was. Derision and bigotry for the first four years that she had known him. Hounding the D.A. via his participation on the Inquisitorial Squad in fifth year. Collusion with Death Eaters last year. Now she was supposed to believe that he was past all that and wanted to, what? Be nice to her? _Seduce_ her? What the hell was this?

“Draco Pureblood Elitist Malfoy made – no, wait – _served_ Hermione Muggle-born Granger tea.”

“Apparently so,” he answered in a tone that was too familiar for her liking.

She narrowed her eyes. He wasn’t giving away anything through his vocal tone or facial expression. His bright grey eyes remained slightly flirtatious and... Curious.

She could hear Mad-Eye Moody’s warnings about drinks resonating loudly in her head. Was he trying to slip her a potion? If he were spying on her, the situation would make more sense. She hadn’t attended a single class or performed any of the mandatory Head duties; she would be suspicious of her presence as well if she were him. Was he trying to get her to let her guard down in order to find out what she was doing back at Hogwarts?

She looked at the tea cups. If he was trying to slip her something, she guessed that it would knock her out so that he could look at her work without her knowing. Or maybe Veritaserum to get her to talk before she fled to her room. In any case, if he was trying to drug her, it would be because he thought there was good reason to after what he had seen in her notebook a few days ago.

But slipping her something would be too obvious. Wouldn’t it?

Hermione made a decision. She had to _Obliviate_ him, and this was the perfect opportunity. She would switch the cups so that he drank the presumably spiked tea. Assuming there was some kind of incapacitating potion in the brew, she could cast on him while he was knocked out.

“Can you at least get dressed?” That would send him back to his room so she could make the switch, and make her less uncomfortable.

He smirked. “Only because you begged.”

Hermione scoffed. “I did not _beg_.”

Malfoy sauntered back to his room. Hermione saw the towel drop right before he closed his door, revealing his pale arse for a half-second.

 _Merlin_. She brushed aside her warring feelings of frustration and whatever had sparked low in her gut.

Quickly, she picked up her tea and sniffed it. She couldn’t smell anything aside from the chamomile. She ran her wand over the tea a few times – no Calming Draught, no Dreamless Sleep, no Veritaserum – but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. Those were simply the potions that she supposed she would employ if she were in his position. Taking a wild guess, she waved her wand and checked for Amortentia. Nothing. She gnawed on her lip in thought and then switched their cups. Whatever he spiked her tea with, he’d be the one drinking it.

She pursed her mouth in thought, still uneasy with the situation. She packed her notebook and other library books away into her beaded bag and placed it inside her room where it was protected by the password entry and her wards. Whatever was going to happen with this tea, at least her research was safe from his prying eyes.

She was back on the couch, stirring sugar into her tea with what she hoped was convincing disinterest when Malfoy came out of his room, clothed in dark green pajama trousers and no shirt. She rolled her eyes. The man had no shame.

“Shirt?” she asked impatiently.

“No, thanks,” he replied lightly. He sat next to her on the couch, facing his torso towards her and draping one arm over the back cushion. His Dark Mark was on full display, taunting her. Threatening her. What a prick he was. If she weren’t so anxious to see him drink the tea, she would have left for her room. He was up to something and she didn’t know what or why.

She brought the tea close to her mouth and blew the steam away, trying to cool it a bit. She tried not to watch him as he reached for his own cup on the table. If he noticed that she had swapped the cups, he didn’t let on. She kept her eyes forward, trying not to show how anxious she was for him to drink the sodding tea. She took a slow sip of her own and swallowed, showing him that she was drinking, and then turned to face him.

He held the cup to his mouth but did not lift it to drink. His eyes were fixed on hers. They weren’t flirtatious anymore, but were instead cold and calculating. Did he notice that she had swapped the cups? She stared back, unwavering, and took a long, slow sip in challenge. She swallowed. After a few seconds, the corner of his mouth lifted, and he, too, took a sip. She watched him swallow, and they stared at one another for a few seconds more. Some of his hair had dried. A few strands had come forward to fan over his brow, while the rest was still damp and slicked back from his shower.

She took another slow sip. “So, what’s this about, Malfoy?”

His tone was slightly scolding. “You’re not going to thank me for the tea?”

“Thank you for the tea.” She blinked at him. “So, what’s this about, Malfoy?”

He chuckled in reply. “You’re not one to beat around the bush.”

“You’re not one to answer questions.” The man was as slippery as an eel.

He extended the index finger curled around his cup and pointed it at her. “Touche.”

He stared at her over the rim of his cup and took another long sip, eyes never straying from her face. His gaze was unsettling, and Hermione felt her stomach flutter. She didn’t think she could ever look at these teacups in the same way again.

“Are you going to stare at me all night?”

“I’d prefer to do other things with you all night,” he replied enticingly.

Her throat constricted as her eyes flickered down to his bare chest, to his abdomen, to his… She wasn’t used to being flirted with so blatantly.

“That’s all this is? Sex?”

He licked his lips, and her eyes followed the movement of his tongue. “What else did you think it was?”

Espionage? Harm to her person or to her friends? There was a war going on. The balance of power at Hogwarts could change any day, and they were on opposing sides.

“I have no idea,” she answered. “But I don’t believe for one minute that you’d dare sully yourself with a Muggle-born.”

He leaned in closer and she struggled to keep her breathing even. “Maybe I _want_ to be sullied.”

_Too close!_

She blushed from his proximity and his heated gaze. Sod it all! She wasn’t supposed to have to worry about Draco _fucking_ Malfoy _flirting_ with her. She was supposed to be beneath him. She was supposed to repulse him. It appeared that he took the view that Muggle-borns could be used for sex, if nothing else.

She curled her lip in disgust. He was repulsive.

Why couldn’t some other Death Eater spawn have been Head Boy? Someone less attractive? Someone less interested in her? She never thought she’d see the day where she would prefer to room with someone who thought her blood status made her too filthy to touch.

Hermione’s discomfort was rising, and she desperately wanted to escape this conversation. The only reason she was still here talking with him was to see if he exhibited any potion-induced effects from the switched tea cups. She didn’t know how long she would have to wait though. That would depend entirely on the dosage and the content of the potion, and she didn’t know either one of those details.

He studied her face while she took another sip and asked with a smile, “Did you think I slipped something in your tea?”

Immediately she sputtered, coughing, and had to put her teacup on the coffee table so that she wouldn’t spill it on herself. After regaining her composure and wiping her mouth with the napkin that he calmly held out to her, she looked up to see him observing her with amused interest. He must have noticed that she’d swapped the cups. She saw the gears turning in his head as he took another slow, measured sip. He wasn’t worried about her swapping the teacups. Which could mean that he had anticipated that she would have been paranoid enough to do so and spiked his own instead. But that would have been presumptuous, quite a gamble.

He spoke, as if continuing her thoughts. “Perhaps I spiked both cups and took an antidote in my room.”

 _Inconceivable_ _!*_

She sucked in a breath. Which potion would that even work with? Dreamless Sleep? Sometimes people overdosed and had to be treated.

“Did you?”

He tsked at her. “Are you always this paranoid, Granger? Sometimes tea is just tea.”

She hated the way he danced around their situation. Pretending there was no war and that they weren’t on opposing sides of it. “You’d given me no indication until a few days ago that you had even the slightest interest in me. Are you spying on me? Do you think sex will get you information?”

His eyebrows rose to the top of his forehead. Clearly, he wasn’t used to this much directness. It unsettled him.

_Good._

“Will it?” he asked curiously.

She cursed inwardly. Had she just inadvertently let him know that there was something to spy _on_? But that was obvious already, with her here at school yet not doing anything having to _do_ with school. Wasn’t it? Her cover story wasn’t believable. _She_ certainly wouldn’t have believed it, and he was an intelligent Slytherin. As slick and slimy as they came.

“Enough, Malfoy,” she said, angry with herself. “ _What do you want_?”

He stretched his long limbs with a groan, pushing his bare foot against her calf as he did so. She scowled at his intrusive appendage. Reaching upwards, he looked at the ceiling and then back to her, contemplating his reply as he contracted his limbs.

“I’m bored, waiting for the axe to fall.” He eyed her chest and her legs. “You’re sexy. It’s that simple.”

Hermione stared at him. They were all waiting for the axe to fall here at Hogwarts. But she didn’t believe for a second that it was his only motivation.

Regardless, if there was no potion effect to observe, she didn’t have to be in his company anymore. He wasn’t forthcoming about _anything._ She didn’t have the patience to pry more out of him and was afraid of what she’d do if she spent more time next to his half-naked body. If she _had_ ingested something, she didn’t want to be around him when the potion started manifesting itself. She couldn’t deny that she was attracted to him anymore, and she sure as hell couldn’t deny that he was dangerous.

She set her teacup on the coffee table with a clink and walked back to her room.

“Good night, Malfoy,” she said. She almost wished there was something in the tea to make that whole ordeal worthwhile.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

There was nothing in the tea.

But that didn’t mean anything. Not knowing what Malfoy was up to when he was so obviously up to _something_ was making Hermione nervous. Over the next few days, she left their common room to work in the library, despite there being more of a danger that her research would be noticed by someone. When they did cross paths in the common room, he kept staring at her, overtly leering sometimes, and forcing her to avert her eyes from his intensity. He wasn’t even trying to hide his appreciation for her legs, her arse, or her breasts. His blatant interest made her feel exposed, naked, and vulnerable. The library provided a welcome respite.

She didn’t know what the ‘tea incident’ was supposed to achieve. Malfoy had admitted that he was trying to seduce her, but she didn’t understand _why_. She wasn’t the only attractive woman at Hogwarts. There must be an ulterior motive aside from being _bored_. He was a Death Eater, for Merlin’s sake. She was Muggle-born and working with the Order of the Phoenix, although he might not know that. Perhaps the purpose of the tea incident was to show her that there _was_ no ulterior motive. Perhaps he knew that she would have suspected he’d spike the tea. When it became obvious that he didn’t, maybe he thought she’d let her guard down.

Or maybe the tea incident was designed to put her more on edge.

Hermione rubbed her forehead in frustration. She could go in these circles of logic for hours. What she needed was _sleep_. Until last year, she wouldn’t have thought Malfoy capable of much beyond taunting or hexing behind the safety of Crabbe and Goyle. However, sixth year had shown him to be quite devious, patient, and calculating, even if his actions were coerced by the threat to his life and those of his parents.

She couldn’t underestimate him.

Looking up, she found the biography of Rowena Ravenclaw that she had been looking for and summoned it from the top shelf. Hermione was fairly certain that she had identified a few of the different objects Voldemort had used as Horcruxes, but she didn’t know where the objects were. She was also fairly certain that he would have wanted to use Godric’s sword, but per McGonagall’s promise, Hermione had inspected it when Snape was away and found that it had not been tampered with. In the wake of this disappointment, Hermione had thrown herself into her research with a renewed resolve. Exhausted, she walked back to her table and what she found nearly made her faint.

It was empty.

Her beaded bag, _and everything in it_ , was gone.

The Portkey for when she had to evacuate Hogwarts, her notebook about the Horcruxes, the basilisk fangs, her camping supplies, the Healing supplies, the potions ingredients, the ready-made Polyjuice potion that Professor McGonagall had secured for her, the copy of The Tales of Beetle the Bard that Dumbledore had left her, her Muggle money and her Wizarding money.

All gone.

How could she be so careless?!

It must have been from force of habit. In the Heads’ common room, she packed everything up, safely tucked away in her room or on her person _at all times,_ even when she used the loo, so as to prevent Malfoy from knowing what she was doing. In the library, she was used to leaving her work out on the table if she had to leave for a few minutes. She looked around, feeling panicked. There were some third years a few tables away, but no one else was in her section. She walked over to them and asked who had been at her table. They hadn’t seen anyone.

She tried summoning her bag, pointing at various directions in the library.

Nothing.

She felt the blood rushing to her head as panic overtook her.

Trying to contain her alarm internally so no one would realize something was wrong, she walked methodically around the library to see who else was studying. Specifically, she looked for late year Slytherins. There were a few, but they didn’t seem excited or conspiratorial. They were quiet, each ensconced in their own homework. Hoping against hope, she tried summoning her bag again from the direction of their table.

Nothing.

Biting her lip, she discreetly shot several _Finite’s_ in their direction to see if anything disillusioned or shrunken would appear or enlarge.

Her heart sank. _Nothing._

She walked quickly, row by row, combing the entire library while her heart thudded in her chest, chastising herself for being so stupid. She summoned. She moved stacks of books so that she could look behind them. She checked under tables, on chairs, and in corners. She cast _Finite’s_. Every time she passed a table with someone studying, she checked for her bag. Even the first years.

Nothing, nothing, _nothing_.

Before she knew it, the library was closing. Nodding to Hermione on the way to the exit, Madam Pince locked the doors, allowing her to stay as long as she wanted. Hermione left no corner untouched in her tireless search of the cavernous room.

At two in the morning, she was forced to concede that it wasn’t here.

Someone had stolen her beaded bag.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

The next morning, Hermione woke up late. She hadn’t slept well, tossing and turning fitfully. Panicked, angry tears streaked down her face when she awoke. She was furious with herself and didn’t know what to do. She didn’t even know where to _start_.

No one who had been in the library with her last night had taken her bag. She had no idea who, then, had swiped it. Aside from the fact that she was now royally _fucked_ , if it fell into the wrong hands and the charms disguising the information in her notebook were dispelled, everything she, Harry, and Ron knew or suspected about their Horcrux mission would be compromised.

 _Everything_.

Voldemort would know they were after his Horcruxes, and the war would be lost.

Steeling herself with a shake, she wiped her eyes and quickly dressed, thinking back to the older Slytherins who had been in the library last night, albeit in a different section than she was. Nott, Parkinson, and Zabini. Nott and Parkinson each had fathers that were active Death Eaters. They would be the most likely suspects. As Head girl, Hermione could go into the Slytherin dorms and corner them. Maybe she could go while they were in class and search their dorms. She groaned inwardly. What a mess this was.

She emerged from her bedroom and stood in the Heads’ common room, barely noticing Malfoy perched in the corner. She tried summoning her bag just in case Malfoy had it for some reason, but nothing was produced by her spell. She exhaled in frustration.

She was just so _angry_ with herself.

Hermione finally looked over at Malfoy where he was studying in his armchair, long legs extended over his footstool. His sleeves were rolled up so that she could see his Dark Mark. His tie was loose, and the top button of his white shirt was undone. He hadn’t been in the library last night. However, despite witnessing her furiously casting summoning charms in their common room a few moments ago, he had remained silent. Not even making eye contact. It was a stark change from the heated gazes he had been directing her way recently.

Instantly, she became suspicious.

She watched as he distractedly moved the feather of his quill back and forth across his lips in gentle motions as he read from his potions textbook. By now, he must have known that she was staring at him, but he _still_ didn’t look up. Not even to leer at her. Yes, even if she hadn’t seen him in the library, she was certain that he’d had something to do with her bag’s disappearance. The change in his behavior was too coincidental.

“Okay Malfoy, where is it?” she snarled at him.

He didn’t pause the movement of the quill across his lips, but his grey eyes flicked up to her. A small smile appeared behind the feather.

“Care to be more specific?”

Malfoy had been expecting this. He knew _exactly_ what she was talking about. She could see it in his smug expression.

“You swiped my bag!” she yelled and stomped her foot. “I want it back!”

He raised his eyebrows in amusement. “Why would I take your bag?”

She’d had enough of his evasions and non-answers.

Hermione pulled her wand, but he was quicker and had already drawn. By the time she cast a nonverbal disarming spell, he had countered with a nonverbal shield. The yellow light reflected back towards her. She dispelled it with a flick of her wrist, and it careened off into the ground. Her heart thudded in her chest from the rush of adrenaline. Malfoy looked at her, the cold, calculating gaze returning to his face.

“Even if you beat me in a duel, you won’t force me to give it to you.”

Finally, an admission that he had it. That was progress.

“Won’t I?” she threatened, wand still raised. “How the _hell_ do you know what I’ll do, Malfoy?”

“Are you in the habit of using Unforgivables?” he asked flippantly. Apparently unruffled by her menacing tone, he twirled his wand in his fingers. His posture was downright casual.

Hermione flinched, heart racing faster _._ She considered him, sitting there so calmly at the end of her wand point. She didn’t hate him, so the Cruciatus wouldn’t work. She didn’t have it in her to cast it, anyway. She could Imperius him; that didn’t require hatred. But _would_ she? He watched her mull his question over and his smirk widened, as if he knew the answer before she did. Use of the Imperius would land her in Azkaban. She didn’t know if she’d be forgiven for a war crime, even if it would ensure the secrecy and success of their mission, and ultimately, the end of the war.

Merlin. She wanted to throttle him. She wanted to smack him. She wanted to hex him. She wanted to _hurt_ him. But none of that would be enough to make him give her back her bag. As McGonagall had already pointed out, he had suffered much worse.

“Give it _back_ , Malfoy!” she growled at him, breathing heavily, her heart pounding in her chest.

He didn’t immediately respond, but continued to idly twirl his wand with his fingers.

“No,” he finally replied, watching her with amusement.

God _fucking_ dammit!

She had no leverage. If she wasn’t willing to hex him with anything painful enough to force him into submission, then he simply wouldn’t return it. She had nothing to force him _with_. She stomped her foot in frustration again and let out a shriek.

He _chuckled_.

The slimy little _shit_ , sitting in his armchair, had the _audacity_ to chuckle at her.

She didn’t know what he knew, but the longer he had her bag, the more likely it was that he’d get past the charms on her notebook - if he hadn’t already done so. She had to prevent that from happening, and if she couldn’t… She’d have to Obliviate him after she got it back.

But what else could she do to get it back, if force was out of the question? Maybe there was another way. He must want something from her. He wouldn’t have revealed that he had her bag otherwise. He would have simply passed on the knowledge elsewhere. But what could he possibly want from her?

“Give. It. Back.” She still had her wand out, pointed at him. “Please.”

He snapped his book closed, tossed it to the side, and stood. He made a show of placing his wand on the nearby end table and walked closer to her, taunting her in that he knew she wouldn’t hex him. There was no point. She lowered her wand in defeat and exhaled harshly. She wanted to punch him. It was third year all over again.

He closed in on her, and in that moment, she hated their height differential. He used it to intimidate her while he spoke. “You won’t torture me, and you won’t compel me. So why would I? What could you _possibly_ have that I would want in exchange?”

Yes, it was as she thought. He was offering her a trade. He shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back and forth on his heels while she thought through his question. What _did_ she have that he would want? Information? Like hell she would give him information.

 _Nothing!_ She had _nothing_ to leverage. She gritted her teeth and resisted the urge to scream.

Well.

Nothing except _that_.

According to the tea incident, he wanted to have sex with her. Would she sleep with him to get her bag back?

Yes. Yes, she would. It was a war. They had to defeat Voldemort. She didn’t even need to think about it. Of course she would. She considered briefly what Harry and Ron would think. More specifically, about how Ron would react. Mentally shaking herself, she pushed those thoughts aside. It didn’t _matter_ what they thought, or what anyone thought. This was necessary. It had to be done.

He watched the emotions playing across her face with a lascivious smile.

“I’ll have sex with you,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. His face betrayed nothing; if he was surprised at her offer, she couldn’t tell. “And then you have to return my bag to me and allow yourself and anyone else who has seen the contents of it to be _Obliviated_.”

“ _Obliviation_?” He gave a low whistle. “Messing around in my head? The price just got higher, Granger.”

Hermione looked at him questioningly. “What else would you want besides sex?”

She’d thought she had him figured out. She’d thought she’d get everything back. _Now_ what?

This clusterfuck of a situation was rapidly spiraling even further out of control, and she felt her panic rising. If he had her bag for much longer, he would dispel the charms on her notebook. He would find out about the Horcruxes. He would tell Voldemort. They would all die.

_What the fuck did he want?_

He approached and, instead of stopping in front of her, circled her in appraisal. She flushed under the heat of his gaze as his footfalls padded the floor around her. His leisurely perusal of her body made something low in her stomach twist. Hermione ignored the feeling, trying not to think about what it meant. She had to focus on the situation at hand.

“Be creative. Make it worth my while.”

She was going to scream. She didn’t have _time_ for this!

What an arrogant, smug bastard. Creative? All she knew was that she had offered to have sex with him, and it wasn’t good enough. What _else_ did he want? She had to do _something_ to please him.

To _please_ him.

Maybe he already knew what he wanted. She threw the offer back at him.

“One evening. For one evening I’ll do…” She took a deep breath to steel herself. “I’ll do whatever you want.”

 _Dammit!_ She needed her bag. Now.

Come on Malfoy, you _sodding_ prick.

He stopped in front of her, looming over her body, close. So close that she felt his hot breath on the top of her head. Slowly, she looked up from the shirt on his chest and into his eyes. They were hooded, and darker than she remembered.

“What _ever_ I want?” His voice was hushed and deep, and she felt it in her bones.

“Yes,” she whispered, and did her best to still the fear and sick thrill of anticipation that had sparked inside her.

“Alright, Granger,” he said with a smirk, and then spoke in a low voice. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

_Fuck._

She had no idea what she had just agreed to.

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

This is just a preview! For updates, follow the story in the link below. Hope you enjoy!

<https://archiveofourown.org/works/29115723/chapters/71473971>


End file.
